La Plus Belle
by Wisteria Urs
Summary: Audrey is a beautiful muggle who works in St. Ottery Catchepole. She befriends Fred Weasley, and soon, the two fall madly, deeply in love. With Fred's help, Audrey learns more about herself than she had ever dared. But will tragedy tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

One of the only memories I have of my father is a day we spent on a beach in Normandy. My father, a native Frenchman, had insisted on a vacation to Normandy, rather anywhere else. As my mother slumbered inside the hotel room, my father coaxed me out onto the beach, out into the sand. While I was preoccupied with the crabs in the sand, he tried to take my picture. Most of the time, he was unsuccessful in gaining my attention. After all, I was only two.

"Viens, mon amour," he said quietly, laughing as I ran sand grains through my fists. _Come on, my love. _"Look at me, Audrey."

Instead, I had thrown a small shell at his left knee. My father had laughed and snapped a picture of my childish features.

"Pas beaucoup d'un bras, sa fille. Mais c'est bien. Tu seras belle. The most beautiful." _Not much of an arm, daughter. But that's alright. You will be beautiful._

My father died a year later when he drowned in the coast off Moher while vacationing in Ireland. The picture he took of me at age two now sits in my bedroom, above my mirror, the last bit of him I have.

But he was right, I did turn out beautiful. Now don't get me wrong, do not judge me, for I am not conceited. Not in the slightest. But beauty is the only attribute that seems to grace me. I was never much use in school. Maths was hopeless and English was not my strong suit. Sciences bored me to death, and languages usually left me confused. I really flourished in arts, with painting and such, but even so, my works were nothing compared to my more talented and more practiced classmates.

My mother decided that my good looks would be put towards marketing. Yes, that's right, marketing. My own mother used me like meat to attract dogs. She put me to work in her paper shop at age fourteen, hoping that my straight blonde hair, blue eyes, straight white teeth, hollow cheeks, and slender frame would bring customers into the store. So, for the past three years, I've put up with the suggestive, salivating men that come in to shop, and the jealous girls that sit outside, glaring.

The summer that I was seventeen started out no differently than usual. I awoke to the smell of burnt toast, no doubt that my mother had burnt in the toaster. I hastily made my bed, took a shower, washed my face and teeth, and then dressed. I pulled back my hair into a braid that just reached my shoulder blades and then slipped on my work smock, still that hideous shade of blue that had lasted for the last few years.

Downstairs, my mother was trying to convince my twin sisters, Clemence and Joie to eat their oatmeal.

"Mum, this is absolutely disgusting," Clemence said, pushing the oatmeal away from her. Joie just spooned some oatmeal discreetly into her napkin, folded it, and put it in her lap.

"Done, Mum," she sang, getting up and slipping the napkin into her pocket. I hid my smile as she passed and resisted patting her on the back. I grabbed a piece of burnt toast off the table and my mom started, and then glanced up at me.

"Open the shop, will you?" She asked me, without any morning greeting. "I won't be able to be in until two. I have to go pick up a shipment today."

"How come we can't have shipments sent here?" I asked, laying the crust of the toast on the table. Clemence took advantage of the situation by quickly dumping out her oatmeal into the potted plant on the windowsill.

My mother gave me a look that clearly read she thought I was mentally handicapped.

"We live in St. Ottery Catchepole. Our town, this isn't even a town; this is just a village…is nothing. How would you like to get them to deliver here, hmm?" My mother mumbled something else and turned away. She ran a hand through her frazzled blonde hair and reached for a packet of cigarettes on the counter. "Adrian's idea of course. Always a dreamer, wanted some little romantic town. He never should have left France. No sense, none at all."

"Don't talk about dad like that," Clemence said, standing up abruptly. She threw her bowl down on the kitchen counter and it shattered into a thousand bits.

"You were only one when he died!" My mother said, as if that was any explanation for her words. Clemence gave her the dirtiest look a thirteen year old could muster, and then ran up the stairs after Joie.

"You've really done it now, Mum." I walked past her, unable to look her in the eyes.

Believe it or not, my mother was not always like this. She used to be young and beautiful. When my father was alive, she was a slim and stylish mother that used to take me on walks around the village. She was successful and happy. But when my father died, everything changed. My mother had found out that she was pregnant with my sisters while vacationing, and when they were born, she couldn't stand to see them. The twins reminded my mother of my father so much that she withdrew from her children. Even me. And now, so much later, my mother still can't stand the sight of us. I believe we represent what she could've been if my father had stayed alive. But now, she's older, meaner, and wider. She smokes constantly and doesn't date, and tries to avoid us as much as she can. Occasionally, she provokes us.

"She doesn't even know anything," my mother hissed angrily.

"She knows that you were just talking about dad and you weren't using the kindest of tones."

"He was my husband," my mother screamed, standing up from her chair. "He wasn't your father or their father. He was my husband, first and foremost." My mother kicked her chair aside and ran up the stairs, like a toddler having a temper-tantrum.

I left the house feeling slightly more refreshed. Although my mother had proven to be an insensitive wart, yet again, I was almost free for the day. The paper shop was my haven. Although it wouldn't seem to be, seeing as I work there for no wages and have odd customers come in just to ogle me, I don't mind. I like the smell of the different papers and parchments as I place them on the shelves. I like being able to test all the new inks and fountain pens we get in, and stacking all the blank journals and agendas on small tables.

I had just crossed the street when I heard a banging from my house. Clemence and Joie were climbing out of their bedroom window.

"What are you doing?" I called out, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun that was beginning to peak around the side of the house.

"We're going to Derek's for the day," Joie called back. "Mum said we're not allowed out. But we're going anyway."

"Be careful getting down that drainpipe," I shouted with a wink. Instead, Clemence full on jumped from the roof, landing on the balls of her feet, like a cat. Joie followed, laughing as she did so. My sisters had absolutely no concept of safety, but they didn't seem to mind. They had never come to any harm, so I was not in a position to stop them.

"Bye," they chimed out joyously, hopping on their bikes and pedaling away. I shook my head and smiled at them, and then continued on my way to the paper shop. It only took me a good five minutes to reach the shop, and I reached into my smock, fitted it in the lock, and opened the door. I flicked on the lights, breathed in, and shoved a doorstopper under the crack of the old, cracked door. I straightened a few stacks of paper and went to stand behind the counter.

I had only been in a few minutes when the first customer came in. He was a guy I had never seen before, maybe in his early twenties. He glanced at me, blushed, and then began to look at the shelves.

"Is there anything I can help you find today?" I asked the question from behind the counter, to create a physical barrier I hoped he would not cross.

"Oh," he said, breezing by thick parchment. He had an Australian accent, so he obviously wasn't from around St. Ottery. "I'm just looking." He looked me up and down as he said so. I resisted the urge to gag, and then gave him a tight-lipped smile. At that moment, another person walked into the store, another customer. This guy was closer to my age, and had a head of flaming red hair.

I'd seen this boy before. I assumed he lived in the village, as I had seen him walking by himself and some other red heads down by the bakery and such. He always had a smile on his face. He glanced at me and offered a wide, genuine smile that had no trace of lust behind it. That was a first. I blinked in reply.

"What about this paper?" The Australian asked, puling attention back to him. He ran his hand over a soft tissue paper, nearly crinkling it. "It's soft, isn't it?"

"Well, it is tissue paper," the redheaded guy said, not looking at either of us. He hummed slightly and picked up an agenda, then flipped through the pages. I raised an eyebrow, but truthfully, I felt like laughing at his comment.

"He's right, actually," I began to explain, coming out from behind the counter. "This kind is actually a special we have from China, it's pressed…" I stopped talking as the guy reached out and grabbed my arm.

"It's not softer than your skin," he leered.

I put the paper back on the shelf and yanked my arm back. I had been leered at, whistled at, and commented upon, but hardly ever was I groped.

"I'll bet it is," the redhead said, suddenly appearing at my side. He reached out and ran his fingers over my skin. "Scaly," he said, shaking his head. He stuck out his tongue in disgust. I didn't feel uncomfortable at his touch. In fact, the opposite. I resisted the urge to laugh as he pulled a face. I should've been insulted by that comment, but I knew that he was defending me, in some weird, twisted way. I pressed a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

"You should really treat your customers better," the Australian told me seriously.

"What, by letting them hit on her when she clearly isn't interested?" The red head cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders. He turned his back and continued to talk, as if having a pleasant chat, rather than a slight argument. "I'll bet you'll be a big hit in strip clubs, mate. It's where you belong." The Australian gave him a dirty look, and then wheeled about and left the shop in a huff. I returned to the counter as the redhead continued to browse the shop.

"Usually, I would consider that to be something a right arse would do, but I appreciate it," I told him, reaching down for a cloth so I could polish the counter.

"It's no problem," he said, somewhat mischievously.

"But my skin isn't really scaly, is it?"

He laughed and ran a hand through his bright hair.

"Not at all."

I nodded and pulled out a magazine to flip through. A few moments later, he came back up to the counter, a pack of parchment in one hand, and a deck of playing cards in the other.

"That's going to be three euros," I said, ringing it up. Immediately, he froze.

"Er. Three euros, yeah?"

"Yes," I replied, somewhat tersely, and drew a bag out from one of the drawers.

"Er…" he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a toffee, some lint, and a curious looking silver coin that looked as if it was foreign currency.

"You know what?" I asked, looking down at the contents of his pocket. "It really doesn't matter. Just take it."

"Ah, no, just give me a minute. My mum gave me some money, I'm sure."

"No, seriously. You did me a favor, consider it returned."

He gave me a curious glance, as if trying to figure out if I were serious or not.

"Is this just some way you're trying to pick me up or something? Trying to get me to date you? Because I really insist, it's too much too soon. You're coming on a little strong."

"Oh am I?" I asked with a laugh. He was funny. I picked up the bag and handed it to him. "No strings attached. Promise."

"Okay," he agreed, taking the bag. "Thanks, girl from the paper shop."

"Have a nice day, random ginger," I replied. He grinned and left the shop, only glancing back once, through the window. As he went, I realized that he was the first male customer to come in to the shop in the past five years and didn't make a move on me.

And that was the first time I met Fred Weasley.


	2. Chapter 2

I half-wished I had asked his name. The thought occurred to me, but he was already gone, out into the sunlight where his hair shined like the flames of a fire. I pushed the thought away from my mind, wondering why it would matter to me, the name of the stranger. But even as I questioned this, I felt a small nagging in the back of my mind. _Who was this boy?_

Apparently, fate decided that I shouldn't be left on a cliffhanger, because two days later, he stopped by the paper shop again. I was in the back, stacking boxes of envelopes on supply shelves, when I heard the customary bell ring out from it's place on the door handle. A customer had arrived. I wiped my hands on my apron, ignoring the paper cut on my thumb, and stepped out of the back room.

"Hello," I said, not really looking at the customer, but rather, at the blood smear on my smock. I licked the pad of my thumb and rubbed at it.

"Hi," a voice replied. I heard footsteps rapidly approaching me, and then the person said: "I know, my mum always uses lemon water to get out blood stains."

I looked up to see the red headed boy I had met earlier that week. He smiled cheekily, and then glanced back down at my apron.

"It's you," I blurted, surprised to see him back in the shop. His grin widened.

"And me," another voice said. This time, he had brought along a friend. But not any friend, his twin. His bloody _identical _twin. There was no way I could tell them apart. Even their freckles matched up nearly perfectly.

"Fred and George Weasley," the first twin said, the one who had approached me first. "Well, I'm Fred, that's George." George nodded cheerfully to me.

"Which one of you was in here a few days ago?"

"That would be me," Fred volunteered.

"So," I said briskly, walking in back of the counter and straightening bags and ribbons on one of the lower shelves. I stood up and placed my hands on my hips. George elbowed Fred in the ribs. "Your playing cards not bringing you any luck?"

"What's that?" He asked.

"Luck," I repeated slowly. "Do you ever bet in the pub, or play those games?" It occurred to me, of all the times I had been in the pub, watching the boys from my school play poker, I had never seen him in there.

"Er, no." He answered. "I actually came in to get another deck."

"Fine," I said, taking one off the little stand next to the cash register. I slammed the pack down on the counter. George whistled through his teeth and turned to look at some handsome, leather-bound journals. "And I'm not going to charge you for this one either."

"Why not?" He asked, grinning. "I have money this time."

"Your funny foreign money?" I queried, knowing full well he wasn't foreign. I held up my hands to make a circle with my thumb and forefinger. "I saw that silver coin last time. What the fuck was it?"

George snorted from behind a stack of books. Fred turned an odd, pale color. His freckles stood out on his cheeks. I smiled. I liked his freckles.

"Just…something," he murmured. "So, you won't charge me, eh?"

"Consider it re-payment," I told him, pushing the deck of cards across the counter.

"I still think you're going to turn this back on me," Fred teased, leaning against the counter. "This is just some elaborate scheme to trap me in a relationship."

"I think I would be a little more blatant," I laughed, watching as his spindly hands splayed across the ashen grey counter-top. I usually didn't take to strangers like this, ones with suggestive jokes. Ones who were so cute when they smiled. I almost felt myself blush. I hardly ever thought about boys like this, since they usually didn't feel the same way. Or, usually, they _said _they did, but all they wanted to do was shag.

"I'll make it easy for you," he said, opening the deck of cards. Fred laid aside joker and instruction cards and began to shuffle the rest of the deck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George watching with interest. "Come out with me sometime. That way, we can cut the bullshit." He grasped the deck tightly in between his palms, and then grinded them down. There was a small _pop _and the deck completely disappeared. I started, looking at his hands, as if the cards were still there, as if I had just missed them. "Just get on down to it." He smirked in a way that clearly suggested I was about to say yes, and fall all over him. I didn't answer right away; I was still too interested in looking for those damned cards.

"Um," I said finally, tucking the joker and instruction cards back in the box and folding the lid down. "First, that was impressive. Truly. But I'm going to have to say no." I remembered the last time I went on a date. Tom Kerwin had taken me out for pizza, and had eaten all the mozzarella sticks. The smell of the cheese had made me so ill that he had to take me home halfway through the meal, and I had vomited in the front garden. He had still tried to kiss me. On the mouth. After I vomited. Needless to say, it was a disaster.

"Oh come on," Fred urged. "I even did my best card trick, just to impress you."

I gave him a small, polite smile that seemed to say it all. He shrugged, and tucked the pack back in his pocket. George put down the book he was looking at and began to wander towards the front of the store. They were nearly out the door when I felt a zap in my stomach. It slammed against my skin, as if it was trying to jump out of it. I looked at the back of their vibrant heads, and then shouted out to them.

"Wait!" I called, just as George stepped over the threshold. Both twins looked at me, even though it was really just Fred I was talking to. "Um." I came out from behind the counter, twisting my hands. My stomach was still leaping up and down, nearly crippling my walk. I pointed towards the pub down the street. "I was supposed to go there Friday night with one of my friends. But she's got the flu, I see. So, if you guys wanted to come…well, I would like that very much."

"That's more like it," one of them sighed, and the other said:

"Excellent."

"Eight?" I asked, staring at them, trying to decipher who was who.

"Maybe," one of them said, and I realized he was slightly taller than his twin. He winked at me, and then flicked his hand, as if clearing the air of dust. I felt a swishing sensation in my hand, like air was rushing into it. I looked down and to my surprise and shock, saw a card clenched in between my fingers. I brought it up to my eye level. An eight of hearts. I felt my heart pound faster. It was Fred who'd done it, that was for sure. He seemed to be the cheekiest out of the two. But I wondered, how had he done it? That was impossible. There was no way…and yet, here was the card. It was as if he had just conjured it up from mid-air. It was like magic. I ran to the door and leaned around the corner as the two of them walked away, chatting and bumping elbows.

"Wait!" I yelled after them. "Fred, how'd you do that?"

The taller one turned around and spread his arms wide as he walked backwards.

"A wizard never reveals his secrets," he yelled back. He grinned at me, and then put his hands in his pockets and turned around once more, before he bumped into a poor old dear crossing the street.

I watched him leave. In that moment, I realized that I had met this boy twice, and yet, I wanted to know more. I didn't see him often, and when I did, he would make jokes and then leave. Just like that. But I wanted to know where he lived, where he went to college, because he most certainly didn't go to my school. I would've noticed. I leaned against the doorframe. Fred had a small skip in his step, but a slight swagger as well. It took all I had not to swoon. Why I found that walk so attractive, I'll never know. But I suppose it was the mystery he presented that I found so intriguing.

_How mysterious. _I liked that, that small taste of the unknown. I liked seeing what was beyond my fingertips. I smiled to myself as I turned around and went back in the shop. I tucked the card into the breast pocket of my smock, where I would keep it with me for the next few months to come. I didn't notice until later, that the card would lay on my heart, which Fred was about to capture.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a lie. I hadn't really made plan to go to the pub Friday. I don't have any friends, in any sense of the word.

When I was younger, however, I did have friends. Back in secondary school, when I was just a little girl. You see, my beauty hadn't blossomed yet. My hair wasn't the ringlets most of the girls wore, my face looked too fragile for a child, and my body was more like a boy's than a girls. I was too agile, too tall, to skinny. And because I was like that, I had friends. I didn't intimidate girls at that time, so I made friends with girl by the name of Michelle VanWharton. From what I remember, Michelle was a little chubby, but extremely kind and well liked. She had a big smile, and always wore her black hair in a long plait down her back.

We used to exchange stories and secrets. I told her about my father's untimely death and my mother's breakdown, she told me about her brother's addiction to drugs. But the year we moved to the next school, to Ottery High, her family moved to Manchester and I never saw her again.

That was when I developed. My height was matched by the boys in school, my straight hair was suddenly very popular, and my hollowed cheeks made me look like a star from a TV programme or a model from Paris. That was, of course, what the other girls used to whisper, or say in front of me. But behind my back, none of these things were said. I was a tosser, a twat, a slag, or any possible thing that would call others to the "fact" that I was a floozy. I had no one to talk to, to confide in. My sisters were too young to understand, and my mum, well, she wouldn't have cared, I'm sure.

I wondered why I had lied to Fred and George. Probably because I wasn't quite sure how to handle myself around people my age, people who were genuinely kind to me. However, I figured that it was mostly because I didn't want them to know how sad and lonely of a person I was. They seemed to be the types that were extremely popular, people who had loads of friends. And I, well, I just wasn't.

On Friday, I left the paper shop early. My mum was sleeping at home, a customary routine, so I figured that she wouldn't notice if I closed up a little bit before seven. As I slipped my keys into my bag, I heard my sisters calling my name from across the street.

"Audrey!" Clemence cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Joie waved me over, her thin arms paper-like as they blew through the air. I shouldered my bag and walked towards them. They were perched on their bikes, and Joie was breathing heavily, as if she was about to slump over from exhaustion.

"What is it?" I asked, taking in their appearances. Clemence's leg had a cut, and blood was trickling down into her sock. Her hair was mussed up. Joie had a bruise under her left eye, like someone had punched her. I reached out and touched it and she winced.

"I think I'm going mad," Joie whispered, and Clemence nodded in agreement. "I mean it, Audrey. It's not funny." She tacked that on as I had smiled indulgently at her.

"Alright," I said in a low voice, resisting the urge to laugh. "And why would that be?"

"We were riding our bikes out on that path by the edge of the lake," Clemence began. "And when we were riding, I saw a horse gallop by. It was loose, and I've never seen one like it around here. So we turned around and followed it."

Joie jumped in, her lips quivering as if she couldn't hold back what she was about to say. "It ran into that grassy stretch, down that really long dirt road. And it just…it disappeared. Vanished." She snapped her dirt-stained fingers. "Like that."

"Mhmm," I murmured, looking intently at them. Their big, violet eyes stared back, and I could tell they weren't lying. "I don't understand how this makes you mad."

"Just wait," Clemence said. Joie bit her lip and stared at her twin's profile. "We didn't understand where it could have gone. So, we followed it into that lot."

"Wait a second," I interrupted. "We're not allowed in that lot. No one is. Ever since…"

"Ever since the people there moved in," Joie muttered. I cocked my head.

"Joie. No one lives there. It's an empty lot."

"No," the twins protested in unison. "Not anymore."

"We walked through some sort of barrier," Clemence told me. "Like a bubble. It…it was like walking through a waterfall, I'd expect. There was a house. Tall and crooked. There was a pond and chickens and odd plants I've never seen."

"There were two people outside," Joie added. "A tall boy with red hair, and a bushy haired girl I haven't seen around here. Before they could see us, we ran. When we turned around, we ran back through that barrier, or whatever it was. When I looked back, I couldn't see the house anymore."

"So," I said slowly. "You're telling me that in that empty grass lot, there's a house that no one can see unless they step inside a invisible barrier?" I tried hard not to laugh, I really did.

"I know how it sounds," Clemence explained. "Really, we could hardly believe it ourselves. But you should've seen it, Audrey."

"That's not all that happened." Joie twisted her hands. "When we left, I got this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like I had been there before. There was this buzzing around my body, like the air was vibrating. Clemence felt it too."

"My heart beat faster," Clemence added. They looked at me for an explanation. They wanted me to tell them that they weren't crazy, that this had happened to me at a time, and that I had kept it a secret for all these years. I decided to humor them, for their own sakes.

"I believe you," I said, even though I didn't. "And I'll see it for myself, someday. But I want you to go home right now, you understand? Mum will fly into a fit if she finds you looking like this. Go fix up your cuts and all that, yeah? I'll take you. I have to get ready anyway."

We began to walk down the street, their bikes flanking us like soldiers.

"Where are you going?" Joie asked.

"What?"

"You said you had to get ready. I would presume you are going out."

"Erm, I'm going out with some friends," I said as we turned the corner that lead to our street. I focused on the vision of our house as Clemence and Joie exchanged glances.

"Friends."

"Friends," I confirmed. "Some people I met the other day." The twins exchanged another look. Clemence patted my arm and leaned her bike against the front gate. Joie did the same, careful not to crush a patch of posies with the wheel of her bicycle.

"I'm glad," they chimed. They ran up the front walk and up the stairs, leaving the door wide open as they ran up the stairs. I hung my head. How was it that while they could tell me a story as far-fetched as they had, it was more believable that I was making up friends?

But, at eight, I saw them in the flesh; or rather, one of them. I walked into the pub five minutes past, and scanned the room. Near the middle of the room, at a round table, sat one of the twins. He didn't have a drink in his hand, other than water. He was quietly drumming his fingers on the tabletop, ignoring the shouts of the older men as they watched a cricket game on the telly that was perched over the bar. The bar tender, Chessie, greeted me. She was a tough old woman, with lined hands and eyes that reflected her stressful past. She had, however, been known for her compassion, which she expressed frequently to my family after the passing of my father.

"'Ello, Audrey. What can I get you?"

"Just a pint, please," I said, laying down some money on the bar. I ignored the leer of one of the older men as he turned around to watch me, rather than the cricket game. Chessie filled up a pint with ale and handed it to me.

"Hey," she said to the man, startling him. "She's just a girl. Now turn around and watch your game, alright? Nothing to see here." I smiled gratefully at her, and turned around to join Fred or George, only surprised to see him standing by my side.

"Hey mate," he said, winking at the old man. "She's got all kinds of warts anyway, you just can't see 'em." He nodded suggestively. The old man wrinkled his nose and moved over a stool. I stared at him in amazement, but Fred/George had no shame. He simply hummed a little and went back to his table, and I slowly followed him.

"While I appreciate your…er…heroism, I don't appreciate you telling everyone I have bodily problems." I clunked my ale down and took the seat across from him. The twin smirked, and I could tell it was Fred.

"Don't we all?" He questioned, pointing to his freckles. "I'm sure you have some, I just have yet to learn of them. In the meantime, I will just imagine all the things that could be possibly wrong with you." I probably should've said something angrily or threatening to this, but instead, I found myself smiling.

"Fine," I said, sitting down across from him. "I was born with an extra toe."

"Really?" Fred asked with a smile. "Honestly? That's disgusting." I felt myself blush, and he immediately shook his head. "I mean, not disgusting, but-"

"Grotesque?" I supplied. "It wasn't really an extra toe, just a growth on my smallest toe that made it look like there was an extra. It's gone now."

"Pretty girl with an ugly deformity," Fred commented with a wicked grin. "It's a turn for the ages." I took a sip of my ale.

"Where's George?" I asked, making a note of his absence. Fred's smile widened.

"He's got the flu," he said innocently. "Must have picked it up from your friend." My face was on fire by this point. Fred winked. "Come on, now. Did you really think we couldn't tell?"

"I…" I couldn't find any words to say, so instead, I just stood up. What had I been thinking? It was mortifying, hearing him say that. My stomach churned, and I thought I might cry. "I should go."

"No," Fred protested, standing up. Hesitantly, he beckoned to my seat. "I know you just wanted alone time with me, that's all." I was thankful for that, for his lie. It was still comedic, but serious at the same time.

"Smooth," I murmured with a slight grin. "You think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

"I have a right!" Fred said, banging his glass down on the table after taking a small sip. He mocked looking offended. "I am the better looking twin, after all."

"But you're identical."

"So you think," Fred replied with a suggestive smile. I coughed on my ale. It was impossible not to laugh, really. When I thought about it, it was so comfortable chatting with him, with this stranger. He was funny and witty, who wouldn't appreciate that? I felt a warm sensation spreading across my chest, and I looked at my hands intently.

"Where do you go to school?" I asked, finally looking up. "I've seen you around the village before, a few times at least. But not at school…"

For the first time, Fred looked uncomfortable with something I'd said. "I don't go to school here. George and I…well, our whole family actually, we go to boarding school."

"Your whole family?" I repeated with a light smile. "Your parents too?"

Fred looked at me in amazement, as if I was the first girl who's wit matched his.

"Yes. Them too. But actually, my sibling and I. George, me, my brother Ron and my sister Ginny, we all attend the same school. My brothers Charlie and Bill went there too." His face clouded. "And the twat, Percy." I decided not to pursue that topic any further.

"I wish you went to school here," I blurted out. "I felt like we would have gotten along."

"We _do _get along," Fred corrected. "If I may say so. I hardly know you. But I'm actually not in school anymore…I'm done with it, as of a few months ago."

"So you're living here, then?" I asked. "Are you getting a job?"

He swallowed, as if discussing his personal life was emotionally traumatic. "Sort of. My brother and I started our own business. We're moving to London to open a shop in a few months."

"Oh," I said somewhat sadly. "That's too bad. I mean, you not living here."

Fred smiled mischievously. "You want me to stay? You're already falling for me. I have that effect on people." He ran a hand over his shock of red hair. The truth was, I did want him to stay. It would be like having a friend. It would be having a friend, actually, a rare occurrence in my life. It was sad to see the opportunity go. As for falling for him, I couldn't deny I was a sucker for his grin, and even for that shiny red hair.

"I'm sure the loads of girls you have trailing after you could provide testament to that statement," I teased. Fred chuckled.

"My leaving doesn't mean we can't be friends," he told me. "After all, we do have a few months until then."

"Cheers," I replied heartily, raising my glass of ale. Unfortunately, it was empty. "Oh, damn. That's bad luck, toasting on an empty glass."

"I don't really believe in bad luck," Fred stated. I stared at him. "And by the way, your glass isn't empty." I tore my gaze away from his brown eyes and dusting of freckles and looked back at my glass. Sure enough, amber liquid filled it to the brim. I blinked and held it up to my eyes, to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"That's so weird," I murmured, sloshing it around and taking a deep sip. "It was empty a few seconds ago."

"That _is _weird," Fred agreed. "Are you sure you're alright? I don't want to go making friends with some loony girl."

"Too late," I shot back. I placed my glass down on the table and Fred looked at the clock over the bar.

"Oh damn," he said, glancing at his watch to double-check the time. "I need to go, Audrey. I'm sorry. There's a order meet…I mean, I business meeting soon."

"Oh," I replied, rising from my chair. I felt disappointment rising in my veins. "Alright."

"Can we do this later this week?" Fred asked. His face looked hopeful.

"I'm not sure," I said hesitantly. Was he trying to make me feel better for running out? Or was he jus trying to make up excuses?

"I will not take no for an answer," he said seriously. "I will show up at your shop every day and bother you until you say you'll go out with me." I felt myself blush.

"Alright then." Fred grinned and stood as well. He pushed the chair in and began to walk towards the door. As he passed, he touched my arm. "I think this may be a beginning to a beautiful friendship." I locked my eyes with his, and his pupils widened considerably. I couldn't find any words, and I felt my pulse quicken, as if adrenaline was rushing to my head. Without another word, Fred drew his hand away from the crook of my elbow and ducked through the door of the pub. The blood in my veins stopped for a moment, and I heard a loud crash. It was the shattering of glass. There was a loud shout, and I looked over towards the bar. The five men who sat in front of the cricket game were soaking wet, dripped in alcohol. All their glasses had shattered, and large shards of glass covered the floor.

"What happened here?" Chessie asked, emerging from a back room.

"I dunno," the leering man replied, blinking rapidly. "I wasn't even touching it! All of 'em blew, all at once."

"Damn it, Jenkins," she growled. I looked down at my own glass. There was a large crack in the handle, but otherwise, it was unharmed. I collected my bag from the back of my chair and left the pub while she was still reaming him. When I stepped outside, I stopped for a moment.

Curiously, I held my arm out in front of my face. My elbow was pulsating, and the vein stuck out, as if I'd just stuck it with a needle. I felt my hands shake, and sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I knew, deep down, that I had just caused that. Those glasses had shattered as my emotions strengthened. _What had just happend to me? _

**Reviews will encourage me to update faster! They're much appreciated. **** Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

My mother was waiting when I got home. When I opened the front door, all the lights were out, save for a candle on the kitchen table. Her lined face was illuminated in the soft glow. My mother was hunched over, a blanket around her shoulders. Her fingers grasped tightly at it.

"Where have you been?" She asked as I locked the door behind me.

"Out with a friend." I tucked my keys into my bag and hung it on the coat rack in the hallway. My hands were still shaking after the incident at the pub, and if when I looked at my palms, they were extremely red, as if all the blood had rushed there.

"A friend," my mother repeated. Her face reflected her disbelief, and I sighed. It was saddening to see the confusion on people's faces when I told them I actually had a friend.

"Yes." I twisted my hands together. "Mum, I have a quick question." She didn't say anything, but stared at me expectantly. "Do we…does our family have a history of madness?"

"Of madness?" My mother smirked. "Like being crazy?"

"Yes." I entered the kitchen and flung myself down in the seat across from her. "When I was out, something happened to me. It was weird. I was at the pub, and, well, I got emotional. Never mind why, I just did. And all of a sudden, I got this feeling in me. Like I was electric or something. And then all the glasses at the bar shattered. All at once. Maybe I'm going mad, but I think I caused them to break." I breathed heavily once I was finished. It was good to tell someone that.

My mother, however, didn't seem to share my feelings. She looked straight at me, into my eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition cross her face, but it was gone in an instant.

"Are you telling the truth?" She asked in a deadpan voice.

"Yes."

All of a sudden, her expression contorted into a nasty scowl. "I don't appreciate you girls coming up with ways to bother me."

"What?" I nearly shouted in disbelief. "Mum, I'm telling the truth! This happened, you could call Chessie and ask. The glasses all shattered. And my body was just…it was on fire."

"Joie and Clemence fed me their cock-and-bull story too, Audrey. All in one evening. What, do you girls think I'm stupid? Maybe this would have worked on your father, but not me. I will not tolerate such disrespect in my household. In fact, you can't go out this week, not even to see your _friend._" She sneered at the word. "If you ever make up stories like this again, I will make sure to see that you're out of this house in an instant." My mother turned away from me, her face still a mask of rage, and ran up the stairs. I heard her bedroom door slam shut behind her, and the frame of the house shook.

Anger filled me like it hadn't before. I wanted to go kick down her door, take a hold of her shoulders and shake her. Throttle her. I never come to her with my problems, ever. Not when I was teased by other girls, not when I was harassed by customers, not when I cried for days after my father died. How could she not realize I was serious? When I left the room, I didn't notice that as I had stood there, shaking from anger, the candlestick behind me had completely melted, as had the candlestick holder, which was solid gold.

I snuck up the stairs, careful not to awake Joie or Clemence, and closed my bedroom door behind me. I cooled my anger by walking over to my vanity, where a bowl full of cool water sat. I cupped my hands into the water and splashed it on my face. I looked up into the mirror, and my reflection stared back. My eyes had a deadened look to them, as if I was slowly crumbling away inside. Slowly, I tilted my head to look at the picture of myself as a child.

"Hey dad," I said in a low voice, focusing on the picture. "I know I haven't talked to you in a while." The room was silent. "I need some guidance right now. Something happened to me tonight. Something weird. I'd try to explain it but I don't think I would do the event any justice." I tousled my bangs and leaned my forehead onto my hand. "I just…I need someone to tell me I'm not going mad. There's something wrong with me, I can tell. If you're there Dad, give me a sign. Please."

There was silence in the room. I felt like I might cry in frustration. _What did I expect? Did I expect my father to appear in the form of a ghost? Did I expect him to tell me that it was fine, that everything would be okay?_

Suddenly, there was a tap on my window. The glass pitched a little. I got up from my chair and apprehensively cracked open the window. A pebble sailed in and caught me on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" I shrieked, and then glanced towards my door, terrified my mum would hear. Luckily, she didn't seem to. I squinted out into the garden, but it appeared empty. "Who's out there?" I whispered as loudly as I could.

"Audrey, it's me, Fred." A tall figure stepped out from behind a rose bush.

"Are you barking?" I asked, though, secretly, it thrilled me he was here. "You could've woken up my mum."

"Sorry," he apologized, but he didn't sound it. He smiled, and in the moonlight, his teeth glistened. "Are you going to come down or not?"

"I can't," I said, looking towards my door. "My mum's barred me from going out."

"She has, has she?" Fred moved towards the house, carefully stepping over the flowers that dotted the way. He tiptoed onto the front step. "I need you to see something. Really, you need to come down here. I'm being serious, and that's hardly something to pass up."

As much as I wanted to jump out that window and scale down the drainpipe to meet him, I just couldn't.

"I can't. I'm sorry!"

Before I could protest anymore, Fred had grabbed a hold of the drainpipe and began to scale up it.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. I ran to your door and locked it, and then ran back to the window. Fred had managed to grab a hold of my windowsill and began to pull himself up.

"A little help?" He wheezed. I grabbed his elbow and pulled him through the window. He touched down on your floor, and then straightened up. I didn't say a word. This was the strangest occurrence of my life. "Nice room," Fred said, looking around. He took in the wood floors, the polished vanity, the bed layered with blankets. He stepped forward to admire the photo of me as a child. "That's really quite adorable," he commented with a smile. "George and I, we were chubby babies. Fat little monsters."

I cracked a smile and stepped in place next to him. "My dad took it." I guess my voice must've conveyed my sadness, because Fred looked at me, his brown eyes dripping with sympathy.

"He's gone now, isn't he?"

I nodded. "He drowned when I was young. I hardly remember him now." I didn't cry as I said this. I had no tears to shed for a man who had been gone so long. Fred looked at me, and without a word, he stuck out his hand.

"What're you doing?" I asked, looking down at his palm. It was criss-crossed with scars and burns. He just cocked his head, as if to say: _Go on. I won't hurt you. _Hesitantly, I slipped my hand into his. At once, Fred pulled me in closer, but before we could get too close, he spun around, lifting me onto his back. I gasped a little, but then closed my arms around his neck.

"Hold on," he said quietly. "Close your eyes." I did. I shut them tightly as I heard the window open a bit more, and heard Fred's shoes scraping against the sill. I shivered as I heard the clang of metal, and nearly vomited at the movement of Fred's body sliding down the drainpipe. When we touched ground, I nearly fell off his back, my body shaking with relief to be on solid ground. "There," he said. "Your mum can't blame you for leaving now, can she? Technically, you didn't leave the house; your feet didn't leave the house. Mine did, and you just happened to be on my back."

I smiled at him. His way of bending rules was an extraordinary talent; one that I had no doubt had been practiced many a time before.

"What could possibly be so important that you needed to show me right now?" Dark had fallen completely by now, and it swallowed the air before me. I could hardly make out Fred's features; only his red hair was visible before my eyes.

"Come on," Fred said. I began to learn that until an event actually happened, Fred wouldn't begin to answer questions. He turned around and began to run. I almost hesitated. In fact, I almost went back inside. But then, _who was I to pass up an adventure when there was one to be had? _I began to run after him, even though my feet caught on roots and branches scratched my face and caught my hair. I followed him all the way to the end of town, to that dirt road my sisters had described earlier. On our right was the lake, on our left, grassy, rolling hills rose up into the night sky. We were alone. I smothered the urge to ask him if he planned to kill me out here, even with a teasing tone. I didn't want to scare him off. Fred sank down onto the dirt road, and then patted the spot beside him. I sat down too, and knitted my hands together.

"Just wait," he said by way of explanation.

"If I get slaughtered, this better be worth it," I whispered to him. He smiled in the darkness.

"I would hope so," he said back.

All of a sudden, there was a burst of light in the sky above you. Fireworks began to explode over the lake. There were pink ones, blue ones, green, red, gold, silver. They bounced around and danced in the dark, their reflections lighting up the water below.

"Wow," I breathed. It was a beautiful sight. They were unlike any fireworks I had seen before. They seemed to last lifetimes. And then, they changed. They were no longer vibrant colors, but they took shape, new forms. At first, I weren't sure what I was seeing. And then a fiery bird took flight across the sky. A dragon stretched its wings. A dog galloped by. And then, the fireworks ended with a slight _poof_.

"What did you think?" Fred asked after a moment, as I still looked to the sky, hoping to see more.

"That was incredible," I replied, turning my head to look at him. "Really. You said you were going to open a shop with your brother…will you be selling those?"

"Yeah," Fred told me. "Actually, we made those."

"They were…magical." The word seemed to fit. What I had seen almost appeared otherworldly, something not achievable in this reality. Fred grinned, but under his smile, I could detect a bit of worry. I bit my lip. Something was nagging at my stomach.

"Why me?" I whispered. "Why would you show this to me?"

"Why not?" Fred answered.

"You seem like you would have friends, a great many. And here we are, we just met a few days ago, and you show this spectacular display…to me."

"You are my friend," Fred said simply, as if he had just decided it in that second. "I knew that you would appreciate it most."

I felt my heart swell inside my chest, as if it was about to break open. I wanted to kiss him right then, express my emotions. Instead, I stood up. _I was literally turning into an emotional wreck. _

"I should go home," I told him.

"Already?" He asked. I nodded. Fred stood up and dusted off his jeans. "I'll walk you. But you're climbing back up that drainpipe by yourself, I'm not about to fall and hurt my beautiful features."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a few days after Fred walked me home that I realized I didn't have his number, nor did he have mine. At first, I was slightly panicked. How was I supposed to get a hold of him, if I needed to? What if I had an emergency? Well, not an emergency, but what if I desperately wanted to see him? But then I remembered. I lived in a village with less than one thousand people, and he knew where I worked. He could find me, if he wanted.

Sure enough, he did. The week after we had watched the fireworks together, Fred meandered into the paper shop while I was on duty. He whistled as he strolled inside, and avoided my gaze. He picked up a book, opened it to the middle, and stuck his face inside of it.

"Subtle," I called out. He emerged, and I could see a trace of a smile in his eyes.

"Not my strongest point," he said, putting down the book. "Sorry, I just really can't look at you."

"Why's that?"

"I find I blush deeply." He said this unashamedly. I felt my own face heat up, and I busied myself with re-arranging a pyramid of mints on the counter. Fred walked over and hopped up onto the counter, planting himself right on top of my open magazine.

"I was reading that," I told him.

"Not anymore," he said with a grin. "Though, if you want to check out my arse by pretending to read, I won't mind." I laughed and rolled my eyes, but when he looked away, I did glimpse down at his rear end, and then looked back to the ceiling. "I came in here to ask what you're doing tonight."

"Nothing," I replied, and gulped when I sounded too eager. "At least, I don't think so. Why?"

"George and I…we're having some friends come by 'round eight. We wanted to go down to the lake. One of them is bringing a boat. We're thinking of going swimming."

"What, when it's dark?"

Fred shrugged. "You never go night swimming?"

I winked at him. "Are you sure you're not trying to get me to go skinny dipping?" This time, he blushed. I watched as his gaze ran over my face.

"Not unless you're willing," he said easily. "So you'll go? Ill even pick you up."

"I don't know why not." Fred smiled and peeled himself off the counter. "The water's going to be freezing, I'm sure."

"No reason you shouldn't wear a bikini."

"And you should wear a speedo."

"What's a speedo?" Fred asked, and his eyebrows knitted together. I sighed. My wit was wasted.

"It's…well, never mind." I looked towards the front of the store. Visible through the glass was an older man, looking at some of the products in the window display. He looked up, caught my eye, and didn't look away. His direct gaze made me uncomfortable. It was like he was looking through me, rather than at me.

"What?" Fred asked, noting my demeanor. He looked at the man, whose attention was still focused on me. Slowly, the man ran a hand over his balding head and licked his cracked lips. I shuddered. "Want me to take care of it?" I couldn't really tell if Fred was joking or not.

"No," I protested. "Really, my mum would kill me. She puts me in here to gain clientele, not lose them."

"Your mum?" Fred looked strangely at me. "She puts you to work in here so you can attract men to buy paper?"

When he said it like that, it made me feel guilty, even dirty. I looked down at my feet.

"Yeah," I replied. "It's really what I'm best at. I was shit at school."

"It's not what you're best at." Fred spoke so strongly I nearly shied away. "That's sick, Audrey. Don't think of yourself like a piece of meat. You're funny and witty, and yes, you're extremely beautiful, but you're not supposed to be bait." He looked so angry when he closed his mouth, his head could've been on fire. Hesitantly, I reached out and touched his hand. My blood boiled.

"Thank you for saying that," I said softly. Fred looked down at his hand, which was covered by mine. Slowly, he grazed his fingertips against the ridge of my knuckles. They turned pink and I felt like it was suddenly too hot. I quickly pulled away. "Is it me, or is it just too hot in here?" Fred turned away and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"A little stuffy." I looked back towards the window. The man had disappeared. I shook my head and turned on the portable fan that graced the corner. Fred cleared his throat. For once, he seemed at loss for a joke. "I have to get back," he told me, gesturing towards the village with his thumb. He began to walk backwards and nearly bumped into a bookshelf.

"I'll see you tonight," I said, and he left.

Again, without my mother's knowledge, I closed up the shop a little bit early that night. When the clock hit seven thirty, I took off my smock and hung it on the coat rack in the back of the office. I packed up my bag and began to pack up the things I had brought with me for the day. A baggie containing a half-eaten sandwich, a copy of _The Mirror, _my old reading glasses which I usually elected not to wear, and my cell-phone, a chipped and broken thing that was constantly pocket dialing the Italian Restaurant down the street. I shoved them inside the bag, zipped it shut, grabbed my keys from under the counter, turned off the lights, and stepped outside. The streets were dark already, except for the soft light of the street lamps. The windows to the pub were lit up, as well as the windows in the Italian restaurant and the old coffee shop that hardly any one visited anymore. I slowly locked the door and then, being as clumsy as I am, I dropped my keys.

"Shoot," I muttered, but before I could lean down to get them, a pair of shoes entered my vision.

"I got them," a voice declared. I glanced over to see the middle-aged man I had seen outside the shop earlier. He smiled at me, and then bent over to get my keys. I felt my stomach squirm.

"Thank you," I said stiffly as he stood back up. I held out my hand for my keys, but instead, the man just toyed with them, swinging them around his finger. I cleared my throat and glanced towards the lit up restaurants. The streets were utterly empty, and I feared that if I needed to call for help, no one would hear. They were too far away. "If you'll excuse me, I'm on my way…I'm very busy." I flicked my fingers upwards, asking for my keys.

Instead, the man pocketed them. I felt my heart turn to ice, and I took a step backwards.

"Come on," he said, and his voice was coaxing and kind. "Come have a drink with me. I was just on my way to that pub over there."

"No, thank you," I replied, my voice quavering with fear. "My boyfriend is coming along soon, and I really should be going." I guess I'm a terrible liar. Maybe it was the fact that I've never had a boyfriend that made lying about one so difficult. Maybe it was the fact that my body rejected lies, made clear by a drawn-out blink. Either way, the man called my bluff.

"Come on, love." He pressed further, and took another step towards me. I willed myself not to run, not to show fear. I just needed to get my keys back. That's all I needed. "One drink. It's my treat."

"No." I said it firmly this time, hoping he would get the idea. "I don't know who you are or what you want but-"

All of a sudden, the man's hands shot out. They wrapped around my wrists tightly, so hard that I heard one of them crack, as if a joint had popped out of place. I opened my mouth to scream, but the man pushed me back so my lungs slammed against the brick wall of the building next door. My coughed, unable to catch a breath. He pinned my hands over my head, even though I twisted and tried to get them lose, and then, with his other hand, grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it into my mouth. It tasted of mold, and I screamed into it. In my panic, I bit down, hard, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

"I just wanted a drink," the man hissed, clenching my wrists harder. I managed to bring one leg up, and my knee collided with his crotch. For a moment, I thought he would double up in pain and I would be able to run. But instead, he hung his head, and then looked up, a nasty smile filling his face. I screamed into the gag and kicked my legs out again, but this time, he jumped out of the way. "Oh, I don't think so." The man reached out with his spare hand and ran his fingers down my shoulder, down my chest, towards my stomach. He reached up to touch my face and I began to cry. The gag muffled the sobs of terror, but he could hear them all the same. His smile grew wider. "You should have said yes." Slowly, he leaned in towards my lips, his stubble growing ever closer.

The scream was loud and piercing, like someone had set off an alarm. I opened my eyes and looked down. The man's hands were bleeding heavily, as if he had cut himself. When I looked more carefully, the tips of his fingers were completely gone, like someone had sliced them off with a knife. He stumbled backwards, clutching his bloody hand. I yanked the gag from my mouth, and gathering my strength, kicked him in the crotch. He fell to the ground with a gasp, cradling his hand, and crying in pain. I kicked him again in the shoulder, in the neck, in the face. His nose broke, and blood splattered the ground.

"Audrey?" Someone asked. I had not noticed Fred coming down the street. I had not noticed his red hair, I had not noticed my cries as I had kicked the man before me, and I certainly had not noticed the tears staining my face. I stumbled forward, towards Fred, who caught me in his arms. I buried my face in his shoulder, refusing to look at the man on the ground.

"He tried to…he was going to hurt me," I said into his shirt, moving my lips against the soft cotton, and then stumbled back. The cotton had reminded me of the gag that had momentarily silenced my cried. Fred stiffened, and then looked at unconscious body with such anger that it filled me with an odd sense of foreboding. He reached into his pocket, and for a moment, I thought he was about to pull out a knife, but then his hand twitched, and he removed his hand from his pocket. Fred held out his hand to me, and I stepped over the unconscious body.

"We'll go to the police," Fred said. Suddenly, the man sprung up, looked at the pair of us, and ran down a near-by alley. "Hey!" Fred shouted, and let go of your hand. He sprinted after the man, and I followed him, running past my abandoned bag. The man ran down the alley, and then there was a flash as he threw something back at the two of us. It caught Fred on the shoulder. It was my keys. There was a loud snap, and then the man disappeared. Just like that, he was gone from the air.

Fred stopped in his tracks.

"What was that?" I demanded, running to the end of the alley. I looked either way. There was a long stretch of gravel that looked out over an orchard, but the man wasn't to be seen. "Where did he go?"

"I have no idea," Fred said, reaching my side. His face was white. I spun around and wiped the tears from my eyes. How pathetic I must have seemed, how helpless. I shook the image of the man from my head. Fred reached out and hesitantly touched his fingers to my shoulder. "It's a stupid question, but I need to ask…are you okay?"

"Well I am now," I burst. "He's gone. I…it was weird. His fingers disappeared. One moment, he was…" I trailed off and shook my head, trying to wipe away the memory. "And then his fingers were just gone. He was bleeding everywhere."

Fred stared at me, and in the light emitting from a street lamp, his eyes glowed the slightest bit. He bit his lip.

"Listen. My dad, well, he's not a police officer, but he works with them. Perhaps we should report it to him." I thought of sitting in a police station, in a cold metal chair, re-living the experience in front of people I didn't know, as opposed to telling Fred's father. I felt safer that way. Fred spoke exactly what I was thinking. "It would be less intimidating." His face was still stark white. "I stay with you the whole time."

"Okay," I agreed. I began to walk back down the alley, and Fred fell into step beside me, his hands in his pockets. "But I don't want to tonight. I…I want to forget about it, for the moment."

For a second, I thought he might argue, he might insist I go see his father, but then he nodded.

"You sure you're up for that? My brother can be a bit rowdy, as can our friends."

"It's fine," I insisted. "I want to take my mind of it."

"Okay," Fred replied. "And Audrey? I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too," I said, exhaling. I picked up my bag and keys. "What were you going to do to him?"

Fred seemed to have gone temporarily stupid. "What are you talking about?"

"You reached in your pocket." I eyed his jacket pockets, and Fred shifted slightly, hiding them from view. "It was like you were going to pull out a knife or a gun."

"A gun…" he repeated. "No. No. Truthfully, I can say I've never even seen a gun."

I watched him for a moment, to see if he was being sarcastic, but his usually bright face was serious and dark. I was quiet for a moment, and then listened to the sound of my shoes crunching against the gravel.

"I'm really relieved you were there," I told him. "If you hadn't come, well, who knows that would have happened if he had jumped up, right?"

"Let's not say that," Fred shuddered. The two of us came to the edge of the lake. A few yards away, I could see a little boat. On the end hung a lantern. George was visible, as well as two other guys and a girl. "There they are."

"Okay," I replied, and I felt the stress and fear from earlier evaporate. "Let's go."

Fred didn't move for a moment. "You're amazing, you are."

"How's that?" I cocked my head to the side.

"Tenacity isn't the right word," Fred mused. "Maybe just…recovery? You're like a cockroach."

"Oh, well, thanks," I muttered, rolling my eyes. _Awesome, he thinks I'm as good as a bug. _

"No," Fred protested, laughing. "I mean, you have a hard shell. Like it's hard to break you. You're tough."

I blinked for a moment. I supposed he was right, it was hard to break me.

"Yeah," I said after a moment. "I guess I am." I wondered if he could tell that under my shell, my tough exterior, I was beginning to like him a little more than a friend.

"Come on," Fred encouraged. We began to walk down the rocky hillside towards the lake. The group turned to stare at us.

"Freddie!" George called out, and the group smiled and laughed. Fred helped me climb down from a sharp-edged boulder, and then I jumped onto the sandy beach.

"Hey everyone," Fred said, patting my arm. "This is Audrey. She works in the village."

"Hi," everyone chimed. But under their smiles, I could sense discomfort. I couldn't tell what it was, but right away, I could tell I was different from them. There was something so odd about them all, something ethereal.

"This is Angelina, Lee, and Oliver." They all offered big grins, and I grinned back hesitantly.

"Ready to go everyone?" Oliver asked in a thick Scottish accent. I realized that I hadn't heard an accent like that before. In fact, as I looked around at the group, I realized I had never seen any of them before. I realized that they had to go to boarding school with Fred and George.

"As long as you are, captain," Angelina quipped. She hopped into the boat, which shook a little and caused water to splash against the rocky shore. Fred turned to me, a grin on his face.

"Ready?" He asked. "This will be the trip of your life. A luxury cruise ship."

I glanced at the boat again. It looked awfully small to hold all of us.

"Will that be able to hold all of us?" I asked, stepping onto the seat behind Angelina. I sat down softly and Fred took the seat next to me. He picked up a paddle, and then leaned forward to pat Lee on the back.

"Easily," he said in a casual tone of voice. "These babies usually hold up to seven first years." He suddenly turned away, as if he said something wrong.

"You have a lake at your school?" you asked, impressed. George, who had been eves dropping, cleared his throat, ending the conversation.

"Let's go everyone!" he shouted, and Oliver pushed off the shore. Lee, Oliver, George and Fred all grabbed paddles and began to dig through the water, turning the boat around. The moon was high in the sky, casting a thin white line to trail down the center of the lake, like spilled milk. On either side of the lake was rolling hills and willow trees, giving it a mystical look, like a place out of a storybook. I ignored the cold air that threw my hair around my face, and instead took in my surroundings. I had never been out on the lake before, let alone at night.

"God," I whispered to Fred. "This is incredible."

"Isn't it?" He whispered back. "George and I used to come out here all the time as kids and try to catch frogs."

"Typical," I breathed, looking towards the sky. Fred chuckled.

"You've got me pinned, haven't you?"

I let my gaze slip down to his eyes, which danced in the light. Without any fear of mortification, I took in the arched copper eyebrows, the intelligent brown eyes, the thin face, and the freckles that splattered his cheeks, nose and forehead.

"No," I replied as quietly as I could. I didn't want anyone to hear but him. "I don't think I do. But I'd like to. To know you that well, I mean."

Fred stared back, and all of a sudden, a smile broke out over his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly, George let out a shout.

"Oliver, are you barking? Get down."

Fred and I snapped back towards the front to see Oliver, standing up towards the bow of the boat. He was reaching out towards the lantern, which had begun to burn down. In his hand was a long stick, like he planned on prodding fire back into the candle.

"Wait!" Fred shouted, standing up too. "What have you got that out for?"

Then, the boat rocked violently. Angelina screamed and got to her feet too. Lee just laughed, but then, the boat tipped over. I felt myself plunge into the icy water headfirst. It swallowed me instantly, and I felt my shirt billow out, like a dress in the wind. I opened my eyes. Around me were tall, waving green plants and blue water. A fish darted past my leg and behind a rock. A little bit away, I saw a huge black pot, like someone had dumped it into the lake. A hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Fred was across from me, his hair sticking straight up. He smiled, close-lipped, and nodded to the top of the water, as if saying _let's go up. _Suddenly, I had an urge I needed to act upon. I knew exactly what I was about to do, and I smiled at the thought of it. I reached out, closed my hands around Fred's shirt collar, and yanked him close to me.

I closed my eyes and kissed him. It didn't feel like we were underwater anymore. There were no waterweeds around my legs, there was no icy water. I was warm, comfortable, and safe. Fred brought his hands up to my face, clutching it as he moved his lips against mine. When I couldn't stay under water any longer, I shot towards the surface, opened my eyes, and took a deep breath. I had emerged from the water and ended up under the boat, in the small tunnel of air that it had retained. Fred shot up next to me, gasped, and shook the hair out of his eyes.

We looked at each other, and I let out a small laugh.

"It's not like it wasn't going to happen sometime," I pointed out. "You've been hitting on me since we met."

Fred smiled. "I guess I never expected my charm to actually work."

"It did this time." I reached out again, and Fred floated closer to me. He pulled me in and this time, he kissed me.


	6. Chapter 6

It was my first kiss. It wasn't truly how I had imagined it. I'm pretty sure no girl ever dreams of her first kiss being under a boat, with more than half her body in freezing water. To top it off, it was with a "friend" I hardly knew. But then, there was something so completely innocent, so spontaneous about it that it was the best kiss one could wish for.

When Fred pulled away from me, his eyes were wide. I had an odd sense to laugh, and I think he did too. Because, here we were, acting so solemn and serious and…_romantic_. But before I could begin to giggle, someone flipped the boat over, so Fred and I were thrust into the light.

"Alright, you two?" George asked, retrieving a paddle. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but there was a teasing tone in his voice, as if he was wondering why we hadn't emerged from under the boat. Angelina popped up on the other side of the boat and climbed in. I glanced at Fred, who was staring at the back of my head with a rather dreamy smile on his face. I winked and then followed her lead, clambering into the front seat. Fred followed, pushing me over a bit as he sat down.

I looked up at the sky, and shivered a bit. There was a slight breeze on the surface of the lake, and it caused my skin to prickle. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

"Do you want my jacket?" Fred questioned, tugging at the collar of his corduroy coat.

"Why're you offering her that?" George interrupted, taking the seat in front of us. "It's wet, Freddie."

"Just trying to be chivalrous."

"Well, I can offer Audrey useless things too." George mocked Fred by reaching into his pocket and drawing out a handful of frog scum. "Here, Audrey. Take this for the ride. It will purify your pores."

Fred reached out and smacked the bottom of George's hand. The frog scum flew up and splattered on George's neck. Everyone in the boat snickered, and George nodded appreciatively.

"Alright," he said, wiping away the scum. He flicked it into the lake, where it splashed loudly. "Good one, Fred. Remind me, I have an idea for a scum squirting-" all of a sudden, he trailed off and looked at me. I realized, with a start, that the twins were identical in all but one way; George had hazel eyes, Fred had brown. Fred cleared his throat, and Oliver hastily grabbed a paddle. Lee and Fred followed his movement, and George looked back over the lake. "Let's go home."

Fred began to paddle quickly, cutting his paddle through the water. I wrapped my hands around my upper arms and bent over, trying to avoid the chilly air as much as possible. It didn't really matter, because the boat collided with the shore a few moments later. Fred placed the paddle back under the seat, and then held out a hand to me. I took it, and it felt like my hand fit perfectly in his, like a lock and key. I stumbled over the side of the boat, and fell a bit as my shaky feet touched down on solid land.

"Whoa," I said, collapsing. Fred seized my elbows and held me up, holding my chest against his. I froze for a second, feeling the weight of his body against mine.

"Mum will be freaking out, Fred," a voice said. George had emerged from the boat, and checked his watch. "It's nearly ten. And we have to go into…er…London pretty early tomorrow."

"You're going into London?" I asked looking up at Fred. He was staring stonily at George, and then he looked down at me. He looked like he was in pain.

"Yeah. Just for the day though. I'll be back by nightfall." It was then, when he looked away, that I realized everyone was staring at the pair of us. My hands were still locked in his. I blushed, slipped my palms out from his, and took a step back.

"Have fun," I whispered, when all I really wanted to say was: _Take me with you. Take me to the city. Show me all you know. _I could see him in my minds eye, walking mindlessly around the London streets. It filled me with panic. I remembered the last time my father had gone on a trip.

"_Aurevoir, Audrey." Goodbye, Audrey. He had kissed me on the forehead. My father had smiled a bit as I sniffled. "I won't be gone for long, mon amor." I had watched as he kissed my mother and packed up his suitcase. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I remember that I had suffered through it. It was an important Holiday, my mother had explained earlier. One where Daddy would meet with some businessmen. We could make a lot of money. Daddy had to go. _

_Daddy, however, had never come back. _

I suddenly felt like I might vomit. What if this was the last time I saw Fred? Given the mad events of the night, it suddenly seemed like a very real possibility. But, like I had done as a child, I swallowed my emotions.

"Take a picture outside parliament, will you?" I asked Fred. I turned to smile at George, who offered a hesitant smile back. "I've never been." Oliver, Angelina and Lee were all staring at me, like I was an ignorant savage, but I really didn't care. I had locked eyes with Fred. The chocolate brown velvet of his eyes instantly made the worry evaporate out of my body.

"He's not going-" Angelina began, and for a moment, I thought I heard a bit of defiance in her voice.

"I will," Fred promised, cutting over her. He smiled at me, and I felt my heart melt. Angelina tossed her braided hair and looked at George. I shifted sheepishly from foot to foot, and then began to backtrack down the path that lead home.

"I'd better get going," I told them. "My mum will do her nut if I come in too late."

"I'll walk you," Fred offered, stepping forward. His clothes dripped water all over the ground. I noticed that somehow, George, Lee, Angelina and Oliver were all dry.

"No, no." I felt like, for just a few minutes, I wanted to be alone and absorb what had happened earlier. Actually, I would have liked his company, but his friends were standing there, waiting for him. "It's fine. I'm just over the hill there. I'll see you all later." I waved to his friends, and they waved back. Angelina did so reluctantly. "It was nice to meet you."

"Same!" Lee chimed. George waved. Fred grinned at me and ran a hand over his hair.

I turned around and began to walk down the country lane that lead back to my house. I curled my soaking wet hair around one finger, and looped it over my shoulder. I bit my lip, which felt like it was burning. Was that from the kiss? Suddenly, I thought of Fred's smile, and how he had kissed me so sweetly. All of a sudden, a tree nearby let out a huge cracking noise. I looked up to see a huge, heavy branch fall from within the leaves. I shook my head, stepped over it, and kept walking home.

When I arrived at the gate, I could see my mother sitting at the kitchen table. She was slumped down, asleep with her head on her elbow. The candle next on the windowsill was dying down, and next to her was a half-empty bottle of vodka. I sighed. These events happened every few months or so. My sisters called it a clash of the titans; that is, the clash of my mother's liver and the alcohol she consumed. When she woke up from these "battles" she was angry and pissy, and usually would lash out. I didn't really want to get reamed for coming in late, and soaking wet no less.

I looked up at the drainpipe that lead to my bedroom window. I remembered how Fred had scaled it with ease. I tucked my keys in my pocket, threw my bag behind my back, and grasped the drainpipe. I began to shimmy up it when I realized that it seemed simple, climbing this drainpipe. It was like my hands and feet were almost magnetic, and that they clung to the pipe. Just as I had grabbed onto my windowsill, I heard a metallic clang.

I glanced down to see that my keys had fallen in the crushed gravel below.

_I'll get them tomorrow, _I told myself. _It's not like anyone's going to steal them. _I pushed on the glass to my window, and it opened. I was just wriggling my leg, getting ready to swing it over and in, when I heard a noise. Alarmed and surprised, I turned my head to look behind me. And as I did so, I lost my grasp on the windowsill.

I felt my fingers slide off the slick wood, as easily as water slides of skin. I didn't have time to scream, because I could already feel by body falling back down to earth. I knew, just by the position I was in, I was about to land on my head_. Could it be fatal?_

But then, something extraordinary happened. I didn't hit the ground. I mean, technically, I did. Or, rather, my body did. But my head didn't. Just as I was inches from the ground, I felt my head land on something soft and cushiony, like someone had laid out a pillow to stop my skull from colliding with the rocks. Then, ever so gently, I felt my head float down a few inches to touch ground. I shot up and looked down at the spot where my head had almost just hit. But it didn't. That was impossible. That defied physics. I looked at my hands. They were covered in small cuts and bruises from landing in the gravel.

Suddenly, someone was crouched at my side.

"I came by to make sure you got home okay, and it was a good thing I did." Fred placed a cool hand under the back of my head and helped me to my feet. "Are you alright? Anything broken?"

"I wouldn't let you touch me if there was something broken," I replied, slowly stretching. "I'm not sure how you would do with something so fragile."

"Surprisingly well," Fred said. He looked a bit upset. "I think it was my fault. You heard me opening the gate. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's really okay," I say, because it is. I'm not hurt. "I…I might sound crazy, but I'm not hurt. In fact, my head didn't even hit the ground."

"But you fell," Fred pointed out. "I saw you fall. How did your head…?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "One minute, I was falling through the air, and then all of a sudden, it was like my head was being cushioned. It never touched the gravel."

For a moment, Fred stared at me, and it was hard to read his expression. Did he think I was lying? I couldn't be sure. Truthfully, I didn't care if he did; I just hoped he wouldn't think I'm mad.

"I believe you," he said finally. "Maybe your neck was filled with adrenaline…I don't know, I'm just trying to sound smart."

I smiled at him. Even in the weirdest or terrible times, he never failed to make me smile, for all the time I had known him.

"I'll be fine," I re-assured him. I wanted to reach out and touch his arm. Maybe curl my fingers around his hand. _What was he thinking? _I wondered if he was thinking the same things I worried over. Yes, we had kissed tonight. But, socially ignorant as I am, I had no idea how to move forward. However, Fred, thank god, did. He reached out a hand to me. Hesitantly, I cocked my head to one side and lightly placed my fingertips into the palm of his hand. Fred curled his fingers around mine. I felt my skin heat up, and I could feel the veins in his hand pulsating.

"It's funny, isn't it?" He asked, looking down at our hands. "The way our bodies react when we touch each other."

"It's beautiful," I whispered, mesmerized by the way our hands looked clasped together like that. I ran my fingers down the center of his palm, down the lifeline. I knew he was staring at me, but I was determined not to look back, I didn't want to be held under that steady gaze.

"There's something to it," Fred agreed.

"It has it's own magic."

Fred was quiet. And then, he reached out and ran a thumb over my left cheek. I looked up at him, somewhat surprised. It was rather odd to see how serious he could be, and I wondered if he only acted that way around me. I took a step closer to him, and he filled in the space between us. He looked down at me, and raised his eyebrows. However, he didn't lean in to kiss me, he simply took in my features, as if he was trying to memorize them.

"What is it?" I asked. Our hands were no longer entwined, but I desperately wanted some kind of contact. Fred didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to my cheek. It was gentlemanly and kind, and not at all what I would have expected from him. His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were conflicted, as if he was torn.

"Good night, Audrey." Fred turned away, hopped over the fence, and walked away into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up late the next morning. So late, in fact, that I was awoken by my beast of a mother. I had no fair warning. There I was, just dreaming away, when she so rudely woke me.

I had dreamt of the ocean. I had a fear of the ocean, seeing that's where my father died. In my dream, however, I wasn't scared of it at all. I had walked right into the surf and let the water brush up against my toes and soak into the bottom of my feet. The sea foam had risen up to my knees. I had watched as the foam had climbed my body, rising an inch at a time, until it covered my torso, like a beautiful dress.

Suddenly, a loud crash awoke me from my dream.

"Get up!" My mother screeched in a shrill tone. I felt a sharp force on the top of my head.

"Ow!" I yelled back, holding a hand to my skull. I tenderly massaged my scalp. "What is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?"

"You're late for work." My mother pulled open my closet door and threw a skirt and shirt onto my bed. I struggled to sit up and my head let out a painful throb.

"Why don't you go to work?" I grumbled, reaching for the shirt. The room went very quiet for a moment. And then, my mother spoke in a growl so low; it was if she had swallowed a tiger.

"Don't you dare sass me young lady." _Oh god. The 'young lady' speech. I was in serious trouble. _"You creep in so late last night (Yes, I heard you), and sleep in to your leisure, without a care in the world for supporting this family-"

"Wait a second!" I jumped from my bed, my temper rising quickly, along with my blood pressure. In the hallway, I could hear Clemence and Joie whispering to each other, no doubt listening in. "Supporting the family? SUPPORTING THE FAMILY?" My voice had risen to such a bellowing pitch that I'm surprised the roof didn't blow away. "I'm only sixteen, mum! WHY THE FUCK AM I SUPPORTING THE FAMILY? That's YOUR job. You're the mum, I'm the kid." I stomped my foot. "And the last time I checked, most mothers don't use their daughters as…as…as bait." My chest heaved as I spit out the last sentence. It felt so good to say it, after all this time, after years of being locked up in my mother's chains of repression.

My mother's lower lip trembled for a moment, as if she might cry. And suddenly, quick as a flash, her hand shot out and slapped me across the face. It stung like salt in a wound. I doubled over, clutching my cheek. I had never, ever, been full on slapped by her before.

"Audrey!" The twins ran in from the hallway, unable to hide there any longer. Through my lashes, I peeked up at my mother, who was looking down at my huddled form with disgust. Joie placed an arm around my shoulders, and Clemence coaxed my hand away from my cheek. She let out a soft shushing noise through her teeth.

"I don't know how I raised such an ungrateful little girl," my mother spat. And she swept by the twins and out of my room, slamming the door behind her. I let out a soft moan of pain and sunk onto the edge of my bed. My cheek was feeling a little better now, and if I looked in the mirror, there was no mark from her hand.

"Out of order," Joie breathed. "She's bang out of order."

"Seriously, Audrey," Clemence said. Outside, the rev of my mother's car could be heard as she sped away from the house, no doubt heading to the next village over, a village with a large department store where she could indulge in some retail therapy. I felt sick at the thought of it. Clemence smoothed a hair back from my forehead. "You're sixteen. I don't see why you haven't moved out."

I gave a short, humorless laugh. "Because I'm sixteen. You see, I don't have a source of income apart from mother. I have no job skills, and I'm shit at school, so that won't help me get a job. I have no one who would support me and nowhere to stay. Otherwise, you know I would. But another question is, what about you two? Where would you go?"

Joie shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? Mum can't control us, she never has. She doesn't even try to. You're her prize, whether she says it or not. You're the money maker."

"Besides," Clemence said, leaning her head against my shoulder. "We're not as pretty as you. We wouldn't make her enough cash."

I let out a laugh at that, because it was just so ridiculous, and the twins smiled.

"Go to London, Audrey," Joie encouraged. "We'll be fine here. Go get a job at…at Harrods!" It was so sweet, so innocent of them. It would be like a movie, like a fairytale, for me to be able to go into the big, bustling city, find a fabulous job, and be able to live a life of luxury.

"We'll give you our pocket money," Clemence whispered, and Joie winced, but nodded.

"Keep it," I told her, and then planted a kiss on each of their foreheads. "I'm going to work."

"But Audrey-"

"But nothing. I can get tip money, I always do. I just need to tuck it away from now on. Maybe we'll go to Harrods someday, hmm?"

The twins looked at each other, sighed, and then nodded, all in complete synchronization.

"We're going to Chris's for the day." Joie notified me. And then, without another word, they ran from the room. I listened to their feet pound down the stairs, and then the front door slammed. Quickly, I stole across the landing, over to my mother's room and cracked open the door.

Her room smelled like it always did; of White Shoulders and cleaning supplies. I passed over the un-made bed and the wardrobe that was draped in scarves. I moved over to the gold-plated vanity. On the top, face down, was a photograph. I picked it up, turned it over, and realized it was a picture of my father. Sadly, I placed it back, facedown. I pulled open the top drawer and rifled through it. There were empty perfume bottles, a string of pearls, and an empty jewelry box. The next drawer held a hand mirror, a comb, and a heavy brush. The last drawer held what I needed. There were a few old romance novels and a journal, but under that was a thick white envelope. I slowly inched it out from under the books and pried it open. It was full of crisp bank notes.

Perfect. My mother's drinking and spending money was about to be depleted. I took only one bank note, just one, and carefully tucked it under the left strap of my bra. Then, I closed the envelope and put it back where I had found it. I felt a little guilty as I closed the drawer, because after all, I was stealing. But at the same time, I had worked in my mother's shop for years, for no pay, basically becoming her _bitch. _I felt the bank note scratch against my skin as I closed up the house and hopped on my bike, ready to go to work. I wasn't going to let that happen. Not anymore.

Around three 'o clock that day, I had an odd customer enter the shop. She was tall, regal, and even majestic looking. She wore a thick, bottle green dress and square eyeglasses. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, but there were smile lines around the corners of her eyes.

"Can I help you?" I asked as she began to look over the types of parchment that lined one shelf. She ran her hand over the thickest stack.

"No, thank you," she replied in a clipped Scottish accent. "I've shopped for parchment many a time before."

I smiled with my lips closed and returned to filling out the purchase logs for the past week. I stopped when I realized she had moved closer to the counter. I set down my pen and looked up at her. The woman was staring at me with utmost certainty, and even ferocity. It was like she was testing me in her mind.

"Sorry…" I said, setting aside the logs. "Are you sure you don't need some help?"

"I'm sorry to be so forward," she said, cutting across my question. "But I do believe I know you." She swallowed and looked more intently at me.

"Perhaps I just have a familiar face," I suggested politely.

She shook her head, and then, her eyes widened. "Young woman, what was your father's name?"

I hesitated before answering. I didn't know why a stranger would ask such a thing. What bothered me most was her use of the word _was, _rather than _is. _It was like she knew he was dead.

"A-Adrian," I stumbled over his name, and then cleared my throat. Her eyebrows furrowed, narrowing her eyes.

"And your mother?"

I frowned at that. "Carlie. Her name is Carlie."

The woman beamed, and unless I was seeing things, there were tears hiding in her eyelids.

"You must be Audrey." She shook her head. "I was a friend of your fathers. I can't believe…you look just like him."

"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "How did you know him?"

"School," she replied with a smile. "Er…we went to school together when we were younger. I mean, I taught your father."

"Really?" I was a bit confused by this. "I was always under the impression my father went to school in France. Or, at least, that's what my mum told me. And you…well, you're-"

"Scottish?" She closed her mouth tightly and smoothed her skirt. "Your mother never mentioned your father's school?"

"No," I said with a shrug. "I was so young when he…well, I never got to ask him about his school. My mum hasn't mentioned it much." I stopped for a moment and studied this woman. She looked like she could have been the right age to teach my father_. But how is it she came upon me?_ Before I could ask what she was doing in St. Ottery Catchepole, she turned her back on me and began to leave the store.

"I'm really sorry, but I have a lot to do today."

"Wait," I blurted before she could leave. "What's your name?"

"I…I told you," the woman sputtered, still looking uptight.

"I don't think you did."

Her clever eyes narrowed. "McGonagall. Professor McGonagall." And then she walked out the front door. I watched her leave, perplexed. The visit had been strange. She had come in for less than 10 minutes, hadn't bought anything, and told me she knew my father. But, when the next customer came in to buy computer paper, I pushed the image of the woman to the back of my mind.

When the clock struck eight that evening, I began to close up shop. I tucked the expense reports back onto their shelves on the back room, and then picked up my purse. However, the door opened before I could leave. At first, I panicked, thinking of the man who had lurked outside the store the evening prior. I ducked down, searching for something to defend myself with. But then, as I peeped around the door, I saw a vibrant mop of red hair.

"Audrey?" Fred called out. I dropped my purse on the floor and ran at him, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in the collar of his shirt. He smelled of a city, of cologne and pollution and different foods. Hesitantly, Fred smoothed my hair back and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer to him.

"You scared me," I accused, finally pulling back. "I thought you might have been…well, that man from yesterday."

"Just how I like my women…paranoid," Fred joked, but his eyes didn't laugh the way his face did.

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically. I walked back towards the counter, hopped over it, and grabbed my purse off the floor, hopped back over the counter and made my way over to him. "How was the city?"

"Not as exciting as you would think," Fred said with a grin. "But it was actually good. Listen, Audrey, George and I…we found a flat."

"A flat?" I repeated. I felt my stomach drop a bit. "Like a apartment?"

"Exactly," Fred mumbled. But then he took my hand and gripped it tightly in his. "We don't move until September. When we start our job."

I struggled for a moment. I was so selfish, to want him to stay here with me. But at the same time, how could I be so selfish when he was here, smiling and so obviously overjoyed with the news?

"Congratulations, Fred," I told him. Slowly, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He blinked a few times, and he looked as if he got hit on the head.

"What was that for?" He asked, still holding my hand in his. He pulled me a little closer.

"I don't know," I admitted. He laced his fingers with mine, and we both grinned shyly and looked down at our hands. This was still new. Fred swallowed.

"I need to tell you something," he began. "Before I go."

"What?" I asked, watching as his face fell a little. He bit his lip in concentration.

"I haven't been…entirely honest about things. Not…not in a creepy way or anything, mind you. But there's something I need to tell you. And I'm not supposed to. I'm probably going to get in huge trouble, but I can't hide it from you anymore. It's killing me."

I swallowed. "You're not a girl, are you?"

"Charming," Fred laughed. "But no, sorry to disappoint." He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a little. "Audrey, I'm a wizard."

I took my hand out of his. I bit down on my knuckles to keep from laughing. Because seriously, how else was I supposed to react when someone said something like that?

"Okay," I giggled. Fred frowned.

"I know it sounds mad, but it's true."

"Well." I linked an arm with his. "Go on. Show me some magic."

Fred leaned down and kissed me.

"Not that kind," I whispered as he pulled his lips away. He leaned his forehead against mine and I took a ragged breath. "Seriously…Fred…"

"Come on," he coaxed. Fred took my hand, took my keys, and locked up the store behind us.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I retrieved my bike from the local bike-rack in the middle of Towns Square.

"I'm going to show you some magic," Fred replied promptly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder as I pushed my bike along the sidewalk.


	8. Chapter 8

"What kind?" I teased as we began to stroll down the dusty road that wound it's way around the perimeter of the lake. "Pull a rabbit from a hat? Pull a quarter from my ear? Show me a card trick?"

"No," Fred said, and I was struck by how quiet he was. He gnawed at his lip. "Not that kind of magic. I can't do any of that."

"Yes you can," I protested, lugging my bike along. "That magic trick you did in my paper shop. The ones with the cards…that looked so real. It was brilliant."

"Audrey," Fred said, stopping in his tracks. He placed his hands on either side of my face. "That was not a card trick. That was magic."

He looked so deadly serious that I felt a pang of fear inside. I was walking with a madman. I had kissed a madman. I really liked this madman. But he was definitely mad; because there was no way in hell that magic actually existed.

"What are you playing at?" I asked him, but I tried to be gentle. I pulled his hands off my face. "Come on. Is this…is this some weird need to impress me? I think you're brilliant and funny and you have the best smile. There's no competition here, Fred. You don't need to make stuff up-"

"I'm not making this up," Fred pleaded. He ran his hands through his hair, and it stuck straight up. He paused, and then stared intently at my face. "Remember the fireworks? Those weren't just any fireworks, okay? George and I made them. With _magic _Audrey."

I felt annoyance rise in my throat. "Don't be stupid. I don't need anyone else messing about with me, I really don't."

Fred stepped back, and he knitted his eyebrows together. "Okay. Fine. You need to see it to believe it. You know I could get in huge trouble for this? But I don't really care. You…" Fred stopped and bit his tongue. "You mean a lot to me, okay? As a friend…and more. Whatever, this is…you just need to know." Fred turned around and began to sprint down the lane.

"Wait!" I shouted after him. I dropped my bike and began to sprint too, but because his legs were so much longer than mine, it was hard to catch up. "Fred, where're you-?"

Suddenly, Fred stopped. I came to a halt too, and nearly tripped over a rock. I had to stumble to steady myself.

"Don't bother coming after me," he said in an excited tone. Not necessarily excited in a good way, but anxious. His face was red. We were standing next to a rusty old mailbox, and he kicked out at it. "This is the point where you can't come any further. We have muggle repelling charms all over the place." I tried to stick a word in, edgewise, but he kept babbling on, turning redder as he did so. Before I could tell him just to stop and listen to what I had to say, he turned around again and sprinted once more. But then, he disappeared. Just like that, he was invisible. Like the air had swallowed him, consumed him, and pulled him into it's depths. I nearly fell over. I hadn't imagined it, I knew that. Where did he go?

"Fred?" I called out into the darkness. I felt fear creep up my spine, like an insect. Given what had happened the evening previous, I didn't want to be alone. With regret, I realized I had dropped my bike back along the path. "Please come back. I'm sorry, I believe you." But he didn't come back, and I didn't really believe him. I wrapped my arms around myself. I was torn between running back to my bike, and charging ahead to Fred.

My decision was made in a snap-second. I heard a snap issue from the group of trees to my right. Without waiting to see what had caused it, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, right towards where I had seen Fred disappear. As I leaped towards the mailbox, I recalled something he had mumbled. _Muggle repelling charms all over the place…_ What was a muggle-repelling charm? It sounded like bug spray. Maybe it was a security system to keep me out? It was too late. My left foot had firmly planted on the ground, and my right foot followed. At once, I felt the odd sensation of rippling. Yes, that's right, rippling. All over my body, like waves were washing over my skin.

Suddenly, everything was black. I couldn't see at all, not even my hand. But then, everything appeared. And when I mean everything, I do mean everything.

There was a house. It rose above the tall grasses and the pond out front. It was crooked and crazy and the shingles were falling off and the windows were stained glass. Chickens were running up and down the gravel driveway, but the driveway was devoid of a car. The windows of the house were all lit up, and in the tallest window, I could see a tall red-haired boy that could've been Fred's brother. In an instant, I realized that this was the house my sisters had told me about. This was the house they had discovered, the house in the empty lot. But really, it wasn't an empty lot at all.

Cautiously, I began to walk towards the house, keeping my eyes peeled for Fred.

"Fred?" I called out, looking left and right. "George?"

The twins didn't answer. I stepped over a rooster, and opened the gate to the small yard that adorned the front of the house. Carefully, I stepped on the stepping-stones that lead to the front door. It was a Dutch door, so the top half was open, while the bottom was shut.

"Er…hello?" I called out, peering inside. The house was eccentric. I had once wondered what Fred had been raised like, what his family was like, and his house looked just as I had imagined it. There was an overstuffed chair cramped right next to a fireplace, and spiraling stairs loomed over it. There was a kitchen table across the hallway from the chairs, and beyond that, I could see a kitchen. There was a large pot on the small stove, and the sound of boiling water was present. Suddenly, a stocky red-haired woman I could only guess to be Fred's mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She frowned at me, and I felt myself blush. She was intimidating, both in size and aura.

"Can I help you?" She asked briskly.

"I'm looking for Fred," I said in an off-hand tone. "We were out in the village, and he ran here. I assumed this was his house?"

"Quite right," she replied. She beamed, fixed her apron, and strolled over to the door. She unlocked the bottom half and ushered me inside. I tentatively looked around. There was a fat orange cat dozing on the chair, and an odd clock on the wall that had Fred and George's pictures on it, along with all their family members. "I'm Molly," Fred's mother introduced herself, and she hugged me tightly. "You must be-"

"Audrey." I didn't introduce myself. I didn't say my name. It was George who said it. He was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, staring at me. His mouth was ajar, and he held a half-eaten apple in one hand.

"Audrey?" Molly looked from me, to George, and then back to me. She looked utterly perplexed. "But I thought this was Angelina."

George ignored her. "How did you get here? How did you find our house?"

"I…I…" I faltered under their stares. From George's look, it was apparent that something was wrong. "I followed Fred. He was all riled up, he said he had to show me something…"

"Mum," George said urgently, not taking his eyes off me. "Audrey works in the village." Molly's expression didn't change. "In the paper shop. She's a muggle."

"What?" Molly's mouth fell open and she looked back at me. I was not only confused now, but also rather angry. Why did they keep calling me that?

"Audrey." Now Fred said my name. He was standing on the stairs, a stick in his hand, staring down at me. His eyes were wide. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"We were just wondering that," his mother growled. "How did she get in?"

"She's a muggle," Fred insisted, jumping down the remaining stairs. He came to stand at my side. "I don't really know-"

"Can someone tell me what a muggle is?" I interjected, glaring at Fred. It was his fault for bringing me here.

"We have to tell someone," Molly fretted, still staring at me. "I don't know what to do about it. We could obliviate-"

"No," Fred snarled, and he suddenly stood in front of me, blocking me from his mother's view. "Don't do that to her. I…" he trailed off and cleared his throat. "I was going to tell her, mum. I was going to show her what we're capable of, what we do."

Suddenly, Molly pulled a stick from the pocket of her apron. It looked like a stick to me, at least. It was long and thin, but I could see that the end was sharp and that there was a handle carved in the end. She waved it above her head, and suddenly, something silver erupted from the end. It sped out the door.

"What was that?" I squealed. It hadn't been solid; it had the same consistency of a cloud.

"There," Molly told Fred. She gave me an apprehensive look. "I've called McGonagall. The Ministry should be telling me off any second now, anyway."

One word she said stood out to me. "McGonagall?" I asked, looking up at Fred. "She's here, in the village."

"What?" Fred and George chimed in unison, and they both stared at me. Molly had her back to her sons, and me but she froze, listening.

"She came into the paper shop the other day," I told Fred. "She and I talked. She said she taught my father. When he was a kid, I guess. Anyway, why do you need her? How did you call her?"

"Mum," Fred said, and his face drained of color. "There's a reason the muggle-repelling charms didn't work. There's a reason the Ministry hasn't sent you a howler already."

I hated how they kept talking as if I wasn't there.

"Would someone please just tell me what's going on?" I bellowed, growing red in the face.

Fred didn't answer right away. Instead, he glanced at his mother and brother, and then took me by the hand. He pulled me out the door and into the night.

"Watch," he said in a low, serious voice. He raised that stick in the air and brought it down in a single swoop. A fountain of water poured out of the end of it. I watched, motionless and stunned. "See? Magic."

I was really too surprised to mouth words. Carefully, I reached out and touched his hand, the one closed around…well, closed around the wand.

"It's a wand," I whispered, staring at the wood.

"Here," Fred said. He handed it to me. I held the stick in the palm of my hand. It was a handsome color, a deep mahogany, and was polished, but it had the feeling of being worn out. "I'm just…curious," Fred began. He stepped behind me and closed my fingers over the wand. "Go on, then. Wave it."

"What?" I asked, still staring at it. "I can't."

"You can. You just saw me do something with it, now you can. Try it, Audrey." I gulped as I felt Fred's hand tighten on mine. Together, we moved my hand through the air. And something amazing happened. I had this exploding feeling in my chest, like fireworks had suddenly burst inside me. And out of the tip of the wand flew those fireworks, in red and gold and silver and purple and green and every color you could possibly imagine. In my delight and surprise, I dropped Fred's wand. He scrambled to pick it up.

"I knew it," he muttered, pocketing the wand.

"That was amazing," I murmured, looking down at my hand. "You saw it, didn't you? It's real." I threw my arms around Fred's shoulders. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." Fred slowly moved a hand around my back.

"Audrey," he whispered in my ear, and I pulled back, grinning. "A muggle is someone who's non-magic. Someone who can't do magic."

"You called me that," I accused, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "You called me that. You keep them out of your house…? Well, the joke's on you because I _can _do magic. Just like you."

"Exactly," Fred exclaimed. "Exactly. Think about it. You _can _do magic."

"Well," I said slowly, working it out. "But that would mean…"

"Exactly," Fred repeated again when it dawned on my face. He nodded. "You're a witch, Audrey."


	9. Chapter 9

"No. No I'm not." I immediately withdrew myself from his arms. I shook my head. "There's no way."

"You just saw for yourself," Fred insisted. "Think about it, Audrey. You've experienced it, I know you have."

I remembered some of the recent events that had happened to me. The shattering glasses, the fall from my window, the branch breaking off the tree…I gasped.

"That man…the other night or so. When he…when he went to hurt me, his fingertips disappeared." I began to shake, even though the night wasn't chilly. Fred began to shrug off his jacket. His jaw was set, and he looked protective. "I think that was me. I think I sliced them off."

"So you admit it?" Fred asked. He swung his jacket over my shoulders and pulled it tightly around me.

"I…It had to be me…" I whispered. "I didn't have a knife."

"And remember in that same night," Fred urged. "You fell from your window, but you didn't touch the ground. I was suspicious then, but I shrugged it off. Think, Audrey. Has there been other experiences like this in your life?"

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. Slowly, memories crept into my mind. I began to speak, telling Fred without opening my eyes.

"When I was four, my mom almost spilled a pot of boiling water on my arm, but suddenly, the water was cold. When I was seven, we had to do an assignment for math, and I forgot mine at home. When the teacher asked for mine, I suddenly found it on my desk, completely filled out, with all the correct answers. When I was fourteen, Sally Jensen tried to bully me in class. She tried to crush my mobile under her heel, but instead, it didn't even crack. She broke her ankle and my phone was just fine."

"See?" Fred murmured, reaching out and grabbing my shoulders. He shook them gently.

I opened my eyes. His eyes were staring into mine.

"But how?" I asked. "My mother…she's no witch. A bitch, yes, but an actual magical witch, no."

Fred paused. "Your father?"

"I've told you, I was young when he died," I answered hollowly. "I don't remember. But it's not something you're likely to forget, right?"

"I can't answer that," Fred replied. "I've been raised around magic my whole life. You said McGonagall taught your father?"

"Yeah." I wrapped a loose thread on the arm of Fred's jacket and began to wrap it around my thumb, so it turned purple. "She said she did."

"Your father has to have been a wizard." Fred gulped. "You see, McGonagall is my teacher, or rather, she used to be. She teaches at Hogwarts."

"Sounds like acne crème," I muttered. Fred grinned.

"It's a freezing treatment," he joked. "Takes those pesky warts right off. Same with extra toes and fingers…" I punched him in the arm.

Suddenly, there was a loud snapping noise in the yard, like a firecracker had been set off or a car had backfired. I jumped, and Fred quickly put an arm around my shoulders, holding me still.

"Just apparation," he whispered in my ear, like I would understand what that meant.

"Mr. Weasley." A tight, clipped accent reached my ears. I glanced over Fred's arm to see McGonagall. She stood closer to the house than us, and her hands were clasped tightly. Her mouth was quivering as she looked at me, but then she broke eye contact to adjust her pointed hat. It was so blatantly obvious. She had worn the same hat the day before. Why didn't I see it? It was a hat only a witch would wear, according to Sabrina the Teenage Witch re-runs. "Please bring Miss Kerr inside, if she will agree to meet with me."

"How does she always know so much about me?" I whispered to Fred, who snickered as McGonagall stepped over the threshold. He wheeled me about to face him, and instead of answering, he leaned down and covered his mouth with mine.

He did it right there, in the garden in front of his house. In front of the open door, through which his mother, twin, and his Professor could all see us. It took all my strength not to wrap my arms around him. Instead, I blushed when he pulled away, and I attempted to look bashful, for the sake of being in front of others. Fred, on the other hand, just grinned cheekily at George, who winked at the pair of us. The two older women looked exasperated, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Please, Mr. Weasley, let Miss Kerr go or her lips will fall off."

I stifled a laugh and stepped inside Fred's home. Mrs. Weasley quickly pulled out a chair for me at the dining room table. I glanced around, and then sat down. It was impossible not to see magic now, it was everywhere. There were knitting needles completely working on their own, the clock on the wall had settings for health, and the cat toy near the fireplace was flying around the cat's head.

"I understand this must be difficult for you to understand, Miss Kerr. All this is so new and confusing."

"It's not hard to understand," I countered. "I get that it's magic, I see how it happens. What I'm confused about is how. How on earth I could possibly have this magic in my blood, and how I haven't known that for the last sixteen years."

McGonagall's mouth tightened considerably.

"Your father, Miss Kerr, was an extremely powerful wizard. In fact, I taught him when he was a student at Hogwarts. One of the best students I've ever had, and an accomplished animagus."

"An Animagus?"

"Don't worry about it now." McGonagall leaned forward in her seat and placed her hands on the table. In the candlelight, the lines around her eyes appeared deeper. "Did your mother ever tell you how your father died? Did she tell you anything about your father?"

I shook my head. "Just that he drowned. I never asked much because she never seemed willing to share." Everyone winced a little at my callous tone.

"Drowned?" McGonagall shook her head. "In a matter of speaking. Good lord, I never quite…" she paused and stared at me for a moment, and then continued speaking. "I sent the details of your father's death to your mother. He never _drowned_. A Banshee lured your father into the sea. He couldn't escape it, and they dragged him down to the depths. He is buried in Godric's Hollow, next to your Grandparents, who were educated at Hogwarts as well."

I had a sudden horrid image of my father's body being dragged down to the bottom of the sea, amongst rocks and kelp. His arms were pinned to his sides pointed faced, screaming creatures swan downwards… I shook my head, clearing my conscience of the image.

"My mother knew?"

"O-of course." She seemed surprised at this. "Your mother is a muggle-born, Miss Kerr. As you say, she has never told you about your father, and I assume she believed his magical genes would not be passed on to you." McGonagall's eyes widened a little, and got a bit softer as she continued on. "You see, Miss Kerr, sometimes people like us, that is, Witches and Wizards, fall in love with those who aren't magic. And when that happens, some people will conceal their talents to live with the ones they love. I believe your father was a non-practicing wizard when he married your mother, because she didn't want him to be, for reasons unknown." McGonagall swallowed. "You have been magic from the moment you were born. And your sisters. They've been on our list too."

"List?" I asked. I was still struggling to comprehend all this. Fred, who was standing behind my chair, placed a hand on my shoulder.

"The list of magical children," she replied. "When you and your sisters were born, you were enrolled at Hogwarts. We sent you letters when you were younger, at the age of eleven. But they went un-replied. We assumed that you had decided not to attend school. But now…" she trailed off at Molly Weasley's sudden coughing attack.

"I was supposed to go to Hogwarts?" I felt rage unlike that I had ever known rise up inside me. My blood boiled under my skin, and I felt my scalp turn red. I stood up quickly, knocking Fred's hand from my shoulder. "She knew?" I realized I was shouting, but I really didn't care.

"Miss Kerr, please. I know this is hard for you, I have seen cases like this before. One of the most famous students at Hogwarts has gone through the same thing you are now. Please sit and I will help you through this. I promise." I glared at her for a moment. _How could she possibly know what this felt like?_

"Audrey, please," Fred pleaded in my ear. At the sound of his voice, I tossed my hair, but I slowly sat down again.

"You have the opportunity to attend Hogwarts now. It's entirely your decision, but you may enter as a first year. I've already sent Dumbledore a letter. In fact, I did so yesterday, when I entered your paper shop. I knew something wasn't right."

"A first year?" I repeated, and George snickered. Molly snapped her fingers angrily at him, and George sauntered back into the kitchen. "Like, a freshman?"

Fred sat down next to me and took my hand. "First years are all eleven. Can't she go into her grade? Get her a tutor? Hermione Granger would be willing, I'm sure."

"We would need five Hermione Grangers to get Miss Kerr to the sixth year level by September," McGonagall replied tersely. "However, I do have an alternative."

"Let's hear it," I said eagerly. There was no way I was going into school in the same grade as eleven-year olds. If I went at all.

"You don't go to Hogwarts until your seventh year," McGonagall said. "We keep you out this year, and we give you private tutoring lessons. You can follow my class plans, and I'll even write them specifically for you to get a head start. At the end of the year, I'll give you an exam, and you may enter as a sixth or seventh year student, depending on your score."

I bit down on my lip. I wanted to say yes, of course, but I couldn't see my mother being hyped with me practicing spells in my room.

"But you would have to remain in the magical world for a year," she added, as if reading my mind. "I can't let you come to Hogwarts unless you choose to become a first year. The administration simply will not allow it."

"I want to do that," I decided suddenly. It was my turn to make the decisions in my life now, to take control of my destiny. I wasn't going to let someone else decide my life for me, especially if it was going to turn out dull. "I'll find a house somewhere, I will. I'll buy a house and practice all year."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," McGonagall said sadly. "You're sixteen, and you are still an underage wizard. If this is to proceed, Miss Kerr, you will need to be under the instruction of a wizard that is seventeen or older. You will need to live with them, as to confuse the trace."

There was a silence in the room, and suddenly, Fred cleared his throat.

"She can live with me, in London."

All of us (Molly, McGonagall, and I) all turned to stare at him. George stepped out of the kitchen, where he had been eavesdropping, and starred too.

"Don't be ridiculous," Molly and I said in unison.

"Why not?" Fred asked. He turned to George for help.

"We do have an extra room," George offered, and his mother glared at him. "Sorry, mum, but it's a big flat."

"I won't ask you to do this," Professor McGonagall said to Fred. "While it's a exceptional display of generosity, you do realize you would have to teach Miss Kerr in addition to working full time?"

"Absolutely," Fred said earnestly, even as I tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention. "If Audrey wants to move in, it's fine. I'll be there to help her learn. Both George and I will. Besides, we'll be living in Diagon Alley. What better place to learn magic?"

It seemed that no one could argue with him. Molly and McGonagall looked at him, and then McGonagall nodded.

"Miss Kerr, please send word with Mr. Weasley with your final decision. When you do so, I'd like to contact your sisters, whatever you choose. I'd suggest going home and thinking about all this. Processing it."

I nodded numbly. I had no reply. After the events that had just taken place, I doubted I would even be able to form words for the rest of the week.

"Fred," Molly said as McGonagall looked to me for some kind of confirmation. "Walk her home. We'll talk later."

George, who was still standing in the kitchen, quickly ran up the stairs, out of sight from his mother. Fred slowly reached under my arms and raised me from my chair. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we began to walk out into the night. The air hit me like a wave.

"I'm magic," I whispered. Fred nodded. "My mother…I bet she knew. She knew since I was born, and she knew when I was eleven. And she never told me."

Fred was silent. He pushed my hair back on my forehead, which was beginning to perspire.

"Who does that?" I muttered, breaking out of his grip. I kicked out at a stump.

"Maybe she was trying to protect you from something," Fred suggested, and grabbed my hand. He pulled me out of the magical boundaries of his house. We began to walk along the familiar dirt road that surrounded the lake.

I shook my head. "She hasn't ever protected me. She's used me." I stopped, picked up a rock, and chucked it into the lake. Fred stood back, simply watching me. I let out a scream that tore over the lake, and rippled formed at the shore. I picked up a handful of rocks and chucked them at the water, getting savage pleasure at disrupting the serene nature. Suddenly, Fred was there, and he was hugging me. He put his arms around my shoulders and pulled me close to his chest, tucking his face in my neck. Tears were rolling down my face at this point, but I let them. I didn't care if he saw or heard. He obviously didn't care, because he was embracing me.

It was then I realized that Fred was trying to do what my mother hadn't. He was trying to protect me.


	10. Chapter 10

Fred walked me home. He handled me so delicately that it was like I was a baby bird with a broken wing. We didn't talk much, really. There were no words I cared to share at the moment, and I doubt he could think of words to console me. All the words I had were building up inside me, like boiling water. I was getting ready to fling all my emotions out on my mother.

When we turned outside my house, when we reached the gate, Fred let go of my arm. I realized that he had been holding onto it for most of the walk, and when he let go of me, I suddenly felt rather lonely. I stared at him for a moment, and he stared at me.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I never, ever, should have said anything to you. All of this…I never meant for it to happen."

"Of course you didn't," I dismissed. "But I'm glad it did. On some level. I needed to know."

"You would've figured it out, eventually," Fred mumbled. "You're no troll, you aren't thick…"

"Well thanks," I replied sarcastically. "Good to know."

"You know what I mean." He shuffled his feet. "I probably would have blurted it out anyway, that I'm an extremely powerful wizard and all."

"Bragging rights," I said, attempting to grin. Fred smiled back, and reached out. He flicked a finger against my cheek, in the contour of the dimple in my left cheek. "I had better tuck in."

"You're not going to," Fred said plainly. "You have this really…angry and go-getting look in your eyes. Like a really hungry…cat. Jesus, it's like Crookshanks." I didn't know who or what Crookshanks was, but I punched him in the arm anyway.

"S'laters?" I asked. Fred inclined his head, put his hands in his pockets, and began to back away. "Hey, Fred?"

He looked up, his eyebrows raised. I ran at him, and I threw my arms around his waist, nearly knocking him over with the force of my embrace. "Thank you," I whispered into his ear. Fred patted my back, and I pulled away, feeling sheepish for being so emotional.

"I'm coming to see you tomorrow," he warned me. He placed a finger under my chin. "Can I…can I take you out? On a real date?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Movin' a little fast there, partner." I reached up and pressed my lips, very lightly, to his. He took in a shuddering breath, and I smiled. "Kidding. Yes, please. Get me out of here."

My mother was waiting up for me. She was standing almost right behind the door, near the staircase, an angry snarl on her face. When I stepped over the threshold, she immediately began to speak.

"Who was that boy? That tall one?"

Momentarily distracted, I managed to stutter out an answer. "F-Fred. Fred Weasley."

She didn't have an answer to that one, she just looked me up and down with either disdain or anger, and it was hard to tell them apart. Then, I found my voice. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I…" she gasped. Her eyes narrowed, and her long-finger nailed hands curled into fists, which she planted on her hips. "What did you say to me?"

"I said," I spat angrily. "What the _fuck _is wrong with you? Was that clear enough?"

She sputtered for a moment, shocked by my language, my audacity, but frankly, I enjoyed the sweat that cropped up on the base of her neck.

"Room." She croaked. "NOW."

"Oh, I don't think so." My anger was building, and I could feel my pulse quicken, like a drumbeat against my temple. "Not when I can just make the door disappear. Did you know I could do that? Because I didn't. I didn't know I could do magic until tonight. A tiny detail you forgot to mention when I was eleven years old."

My mother's face blanched, and suddenly, her whole body was devoid of color.

"See, you forgot to mention some huge things that could have affected me, Mum. The fact that, I had a chance to go to a really, really good school. Where I would have learned more than I ever could've in this muggle shithole. And there was that tiny detail about…oh yeah, DAD GETTING MURDERED BY BANSHEES?" My chest was heaving with the strength of my yells. "DID THAT ONE SLIP YOUR MIND, TOO?"

My mother backed away, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. But then, she scoffed and shook her head.

"Of course I knew," she muttered. "Your father told me after we got married. Didn't bother to tell me before, of course. And I noticed things…when you were a baby. Your food would disappear without you eating it, weird things like that. I convinced your father of how unnatural it was. He stopped practicing, but you…you just got weirder by the day. As a kid, you always had little bursts of, well, _magic, _flowing out of you." She said this all as if it was a burden for her to bear.

"Don't you think it's something I needed to know? Why I can do the things I do? Why weird things are always happening to me? You are the most selfish _bitch _I've ever had the misfortune to meet. You never told Clemence and Joie about what they could do, either. And not telling us what happened to Dad is an insult to his memory. Don't you get that? Saying he drowned is not the same, not at all."

"Audrey?" Clemence and Joie were standing at the top of the staircase, blearily rubbing their eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," my mother hastened to cut in. "Audrey was going upstairs."

"_Audrey," _I hissed. "Isn't going anywhere. I stepped onto the staircase, closer to my sisters. "Remember when you told me about the house in the meadow?"

"Yeah," Joie said, straightening her nightgown.

"I was there tonight. I know it's real. And you know what else is real? Call me mad, but magic is too. That place is full of it. And so are we."

Joie and Clemence glanced at each other.

"That's enough!" My mother screamed.

"No, it's not. We're magic. So was dad."

"I knew it," Joie whispered. "I could always…there was things I could always do that the other kids couldn't."

"Me too," Clemence joined in. "I didn't break my arm when I fell out of that tree. You've seen me jump from the roof. It's like jumping off a trampoline…just…effortless."

"That's it." My mother suddenly howled. "Out. Out, Audrey. I've had it. Your bitching and complaining and teasing and now, this? It's too much."

I turned around so quickly that my mother nearly fell over. "It's only the beginning. And I'll leave. Gladly. But I need it. I need the letter. The one you've kept from me for so many years." I glanced back at my sisters, who were watching us intently, unable to speak. "Theirs too. It's the right thing to do." My mother looked as if she might argue, but I just said: "If you don't get them, I will." She pushed past me and went into her room. I heard her shuffling around in her closet.

"Please don't go, Audrey," Clemence begged, her eyes wide.

"Where will you even go?" Joie pitched in. "You said yourself, you have nowhere to go!"

I couldn't answer, because my mother suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, three unopened envelopes in her hand. She threw them at each of us, and then curled her upper lip.

"Give me the keys. To the house and to the store. You aren't allowed near my property anymore."

"Gladly," I said coolly. I pulled my keys from my pocket and threw them on the floor. I looked back at my sisters, who were confused and scared. "I'll find you tomorrow," I told them, even though I knew very well that I might not. I looked back at my mother, and I felt my last bubble of hate explode. "You are loathsome."

And with that, I walked out of my house. The elation and anger and even pride I had felt moments before evaporated as I hopped over the gate. Joie was right. I had nowhere to go. I had no clothes on me, no money. I had tucked the money I had stolen from my under the cash register in the paper store, which was now locked.

But, fortunately for me, it seemed someone knew me better than I did. Leaning against the far right post of the gate was Fred. He was picking at his cuticles, and as I hopped over the gate, he looked up at me, relaxed.

"I figured I better stick around," he said in a some-what offhand tone. "Make sure everything turned out alright."

"Good thing, too," I mumbled. "My mum kicked me out."

"Well," Fred replied quietly. "Good thing Ginny doesn't oppose to sharing a room. Come on."

"But…your family."

"But nothing," Fred interrupted. "My mum was worried about you, I can tell. No doubt she'll try to feed you a lot when you step inside."

"It will only be for a while," I told him. Quietly, I slipped my hand into his. Fred grasped my fingers more tightly, and then raised our hands to his lips, so he could kiss the back of my hand.

"Frankly, I hope it's a lot longer than just a little while." I smiled indulgently at him. Because, as confusing and terrible as everything was, it made it better to be with him. Spending time with Fred wasn't quite like anything else.

As Fred predicted, as soon as I walked inside the Weasley home, Mrs. Weasley ran up to me, folded me in her arms, told me I could stay as long as I liked, and offered me a bowl of soup with some bread on the side.

"No, no, thank you." I swallowed. "I'm actually a bit tired."

"You poor dear," she said quietly. "Too much excitement. Fred, show her upstairs. Ginny's out in the Orchard with Ron, playing a game of Quidditch."

"Damn it," Fred suddenly growled. "Ginny's got my broom. I told her not to use it anymore."

"I can show her, mum," a voice said. George appeared at the staircase. He looked from me, to Fred, and to his mother. "I was on my way up."

"Is that okay?" Fred asked.

"Sure," I replied, smiling. "Be sure to actually show me how a broom works sometime, will you?" Fred squeezed my shoulder lightly, grinned, and then dashed out the front of the door. I smiled at Mrs. Weasley, tucked my hands in my pockets, and then began to follow George up the stairs.

"Ginny's room is on the third floor," George told me, and his tone wasn't impatient, per se, but rather indifferent. It seemed to me, at least, he didn't care for me to be in his home. Perhaps, he didn't care for me at all. "The loo is just up there." He pointed to a door on the next floor. George grimaced as I slowly pushed the door open to Ginny's room.

"Something wrong?" I asked him.

"No," he said in a nasty tone of voice. "Not at all. I hope everything is to your comfort." He gave a mock bow. I stared at him, unsure of what to say or feel.

"Did I…did I do something?" I asked him. "Did I do something to make you angry? If I did, I apologize."

He had the decency to look embarrassed.

"No," he mumbled. "You didn't do anything. Sorry." He quickly turned away from me and ran up the stairs. I opened my mouth to stop him, ask what was wrong, if I could help, but the door closed after him, shaking the walls.

I shook my head, stepped inside Ginny's small, but lively room, and looked out the window. In the orchard below, I could see two redheads, zooming above the ground on broomsticks as a third redhead ran after them. I smiled a little at the odd sight.

I had a feeling that being magic was more than it was cracked up to be. A whole lot more.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun wasn't even visible when I was woken up. Someone was dropping books on the floor next to my head. I curled up into a smaller ball and wriggled my back, which was sore from sleeping on the wood floor, even if there was a rug under me. Slowly, I yawned and opened my eyes.

A girl who looked a bit younger than I was standing next to me. She was tall and rather proud looking, but very pretty. She stood taller than I did, but her flaming red hair seemed to add inches of confidence. When she saw my eyes open, she smiled a bit, but continued to drop books, so they landed in a staggering tower near my head.

"You must be Ginny," I said, somewhat nervously, edging out from around the books.

"And you're Audrey. Nice to meet you." Ginny dropped the final book on the stack, and a cloud of dust flew into my face. "Sorry for the dramatics, but I had to wake you up. My family isn't the quietest in the morning, and I figured this would be better than having Fred apparate in here. He'd probably land on your legs anyway, which wouldn't be comfortable."

I pretended that I knew what apparation was and forced a laugh. "Yeah. Definitely better." I picked the book off the top of the stack. "A History of Magic? Are these…are these textbooks? Magical textbooks?"

"I didn't know they were so rare," Ginny said, smiling at my tone of voice. "These are all my old first year books. Sorry about the condition of them. But George, no wait, Fred, had them first, so they're bound to be torn up."

I flipped through the first book, but it seemed untouched.

"Except for that one," Ginny added. "Everyone hates it. In fact…" Ginny picked up the book, strolled over to her window, cracked it open, and chucked the book into the orchard. "Worst subject ever."

I smiled and stood up. "That's how I always felt about school."

Ginny grinned back. "This is going to be a fantastic friendship. Do you want to borrow something to wear? You slept in your own clothes last night."

"Do you mind?" I asked, tugging at my shirt.

"Here." Ginny reached into a drawer in her chipped, white-painted dresser, and threw a blue shirt and a pair of white linen shorts at me. "You look like you're a bit smaller than I am…so those should work." They were, of course, my size. Ginny shut the door behind her, and quickly, I changed into the fresh clothes. I threw my hair over one shoulder and glanced out the window. The sun had risen now, and it glinted on the dew that spread over the orchard outside. I could see large hoops on either end of the orchard, and they sparkled brightly, nearly blinding me.

Suddenly, there was a large crack that sounded out through the room. I turned around and saw Fred, lying on his back on Ginny's bed.

"Crash landing," he moaned, sitting up. I stared at him.

"How did you do that?" I asked. "Is that apparation?"

"Ginny filled you in, then," Fred noted. "Yeah, that's it. I came to get you. Mum's made a big breakfast. She wasn't sure what you wanted to eat, but she made eggs and toast and oatmeal and almost everything in this world that one could cook."

"I'll take it all," I laughed and opened the door to Ginny's room. However, I didn't open the door all the way, because someone was outside it. And, most unfortunately, I opened the door so quickly that they walked right into it.

"Damn it," George yelled, hopping up and down. I gasped and quickly pulled the door closer to me, away from him. His toe was bleeding. "My toe. God I think it's broken."

"I'm so sorry," I whimpered. I bent down, reached out, and grasped George's foot with my fingers. Immediately, he stopped moving. His toe had a deep cut on the side, but the bone didn't appear broken. "I think you're okay. The toe isn't broken, that's for sure, but the cut is deep. If there was a band-aid?"

But Fred had pulled his wand out and waved it through the air. The skin on George's toe healed.

"Right." I said, staring at where George's toe had been bleeding. George yanked his foot from my grasp and stepped out of my grip. I cleared my throat and stood up. Fred stared at George, and George stared back at him. It was like they were having a conversation through their eyes, and I couldn't understand it. Then, George turned around and ran up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door like he had done the evening previous. I turned to Fred, confused. "Is he okay? He…he seemed upset last night."

"How so?" Fred began to usher me down the stairs, towards the dining room. The smell of bacon and sausage and toast was overwhelming.

"I'm not sure why," I mused, stopping in my tracks. "He…he just seemed abrupt, is all."

"Did he say something to you?" Fred suddenly sounded far too serious for my liking, and I quickly stepped down the remaining stairs.

"No," I lied. I immediately felt a twang of guilt for my fib, and I wasn't even sure why I had lied in the first place. But I knew that this was something I shouldn't tell Fred.

"Hello, dear." Mrs. Weasley was waiting for me as soon as I stepped off the bottom stair. The table was already full of people, all of whom had red hair. I stuck out like a sore thumb. "Take a seat. Go on, Ron, budge up, make room."

"Here," Ginny said from her seat at the end of the table. Mrs. Weasley put more eggs on her Ginny's plate and went back into the kitchen. "Take the seat next to me."

I smiled shyly at the other people at the table, and then sat down on the bench next to Ginny. Fred sat beside me.

"Audrey, that's my brother, Ron on the end. But he prefers to be called ickle Ronnikins-"

"I do not!" Ron replied, glowing red.

"And beside him is my older brother Bill, and on his left is his fiancée, Fleur Delacour."

"Hello," Bill said with a cocky smile.

"Charmed," Fleur chimed at the same time in a heavy French accent.

"Dad's at work," Fred told me. "Won't be home until late, probably."

I pulled a piece of toast off the closest plate, and took a bite out of it. I smiled at Fred, as if to prove that nothing was wrong; that I was used to staying in houses that weren't mine. The truth of the matter was is that I missed my own bed, my own clothes, and my own belongings. I missed seeing Joie and Clemence every morning.

"You know," Fred said as I took another bite of toast. "We have to go into Diagon Alley today, to get you a wand. I'll be able to show you my new flat." I smiled at him again, and this time, it was a genuine smile.

"I'd like to see it. But…how am I to purchase a wand? Will I have to go get money? I have money in the bank downtown."

"Professor McGonagall has taken care of it, Audrey," Mrs. Weasley said, sticking her head out of the kitchen. "She has asked Bill, and apparently, your father still had account at Gringott's. He has the key, and all of it is yours. Bill's gotten some of your money for you."

We left shortly after I had finished breakfast. While Fred stood by the fireplace, putting on a coat while Ron and Ginny swamped him with requests for new items they needed from London and Mrs. Weasley told him sternly to keep me safe and to stick to the list of items I needed, Bill took me aside.

"This is the key to your Gringott's account," he told me, pressing the small, gold key into my palm. "Here's some of your money. I knew you wouldn't need much as you're only getting a wand. Don't worry, there's plenty of gold left." Bill handed me a small moneybag, which felt heavy as I weighed it in my hands.

"I have gold?" I tucked the key and bag into my pocket.

Bill smirked. "Lots of it. You'll see. Ah, I think you're expected over there." I turned to see Fred beckoning to me. I weaved around the table.

"You're going to take floo powder into London," Mrs. Weasley told me. "See, there's some powder right here, in this pot. You take a handful, throw it in that fire, step into it, and just say where you want to go."

"I'm not stepping into fire," I said, alarmed.

"Watch Fred," Ginny commanded. "Look, it's fine. Just call out Diagon Alley, and you'll be fine."

Fred winked at me as he took a handful of the dust from the small, ceramic pot on top of the fireplace. He threw it into the fireplace, and the small flames within turned a deep, emerald green. Without any hesitation, he stepped right into the flames. They didn't seem to harm him in the slightest. They curled around his legs, but instead of crying out in pain, Fred smiled at me as he said: "Diagon Alley." At once, he looked like he was sucked down into the flames, which flicked back into their golden color. Fred was gone.

"See?" Ginny said. She pressed the powder pot into my hands. "Simple."

"Be patient, Ginny," her mother scolded.

Slowly, I tried to grasp some of the powder in my palm, which proved difficult, seeing as it had the consistency of sand. I threw it into the fire, gulped, and then stuck my foot into the flames. The fire was warm, inviting, and felt more like water than actual flames. I ducked into the fireplace, and then closed my eyes.

"Diagon Alley!" I shouted. There was a sudden feeling of being pitched around, like I was in a washing machine, and then it stopped.

"You made it!" My eyes snapped open to see Fred, standing in front of me, his hands extended towards me. I grasped hands with him and he pulled me out of the fireplace I had fallen into. We appeared to be in an empty restaurant. "This way." Fred pulled me past the polished bar, through a back room, and out into an alley in back. He pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped on the bricks over the trashcans.

The wall in front of me began to transform. The bricks all shifted away from the others, creating a gaping hole, that lead to a busy street full of people. I stepped through the gap in the wall, and Fred followed. Diagon Alley wasn't how I had imagined it. The streets were not filled with magic. People rushed back and forth in large groups, avoiding eye contact with each other. Many of the stores looked empty, like they hadn't been occupied in ages.

"Come on," Fred said quietly, skirting a group of younger kids, who looked like they were Clemence and Joie's age. A man on the sidewalk leered at Fred and I as we passed him, and Fred placed an arm protectively around my shoulders.

"I didn't think it would be like this," I whispered as we hurried down the sidewalk, hopping over puddles and potholes. "It looks so…"

"Abandoned?" Fred asked. His brow drooped. "I'll explain later. I promise. But first, here." He suddenly turned left, cutting off my path. He pulled open the first door on my left and lightly pushed me inside. The store was filled with what looked like bookshelves, but rather than holding books, there were boxes upon boxes, all stacked on top of each other and falling over, and shoved in the empty cracks. "Mr. Ollivander?" Fred called.

A man suddenly appeared in the back of the store. He had white hair and a lot of stubble on his chin. His hands shook, but when he saw it was Fred and I standing in the doorway, he seemed to relax.

"Mr. Weasley. What can I do for you today?" He glanced at me, and his brow furrowed. "I do not believe I have met you before…you have not purchased one of my wands, have you?"

"No," I replied. "I'm Audrey, Audrey Kerr."

His eyes suddenly widened in recognition. "I sold your father his wand. But I must say, I wasn't expecting this. A few years late, it seems."

"Family complications," I said shortly. Ollivander nodded curtly, and then went over to one of the first shelves. He grabbed a box and handed it to me. Inside was a short, mahogany wand. I picked it up, but immediately, he grabbed the box back.

"No, no, what was I thinking?" He picked up another box.

"Here. Eleven inches, yew, unicorn hair." I made to grasp the wand again, but as soon as I touched the handle, Ollivander grabbed the wand back. I glanced at Fred, who just rolled his eyes. "Ten and a half inches. Willow. Unicorn hair. Try." Again, the wand was a no go.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander pulled a box down from the shelves. "I think, Miss Kerr, this is your match. Eleven and three quarter inches, vine, and dragon heartstring." I picked up the wand from inside the velvet en-laid box, and immediately, I felt something. Something had stirred within me. I held up the wand, and from the tip shot a series of rings of fire. Fred whistled, and Mr. Ollivander clapped. We paid for my wand quickly, and I held onto it as we left the store.

"Want to see the flat?" Fred asked as we stepped outside of the store.

"Yes. Please," I responded quickly, looking at a seedy group of people, who were crowded nearby. Fred grasped my free hand in his, and we ran down the block. We passed an empty ice cream store, and then, ahead, there was a large, empty store. In the front window was a piece of paper that said in clear writing: **Weasley. **

"That's it," Fred said. He walked up to the glass and peered inside. I mimicked this. It was a large store, but for the most part, it was empty. There were a few boxes here and there, but nothing more. "Want to go inside?"

"Of course."

Fred walked up to the door, tapped on the lock with his wand three times, and the door swung open. I stepped inside, and I heard him lock the door tightly behind me. The store smelled a bit of must. The boxes were all marked with George's name, and were taped shut. "You just walk up these stairs," Fred said, and I followed him, taking the stairs two at a time. "Up to the top floor. The third floor, obviously, our penthouse." Fred stepped onto the landing, where there was a large door. He jiggled the doorknob, and the door swung open. Inside was a large, window-filled room that provided a view of the Diagon Alley skyline. There was a couch in the room, and an empty table, as well as a kitchen, but nothing more. "My bedroom and loo are through the door on the right," Fred said, pointing in the direction. "George's is that way." He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. "Guest bedroom too. Or, rather, your room."

"My room?" I asked, spinning around to look at him. "What d'you mean?"

"So transparent," Fred sighed. "I know you want to keep me around twenty-four seven. You're so obvious. I thought I would just save you the hassle of begging me to run away with you, so I decided that will be your room."

"And who says I'm going to take it?"

I grinned as a flicker of panic played over Fred's features.

"Well that would make things awkward," Fred mused.

"Of course I'll take it," I laughed. "Where else am I going to go? You're going to teach me everything you know anyway. But…erm, I have to ask…did you clear this with George? The whole…me moving in issue?"

"He's fine with it." Fred waved a hand at me. "I asked him last night. He's a bit apprehensive of course, seeing as it will be weird, having my girlfriend living next door to him. But it's fine. I would've invited you even if he hadn't been okay with it."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. I felt like there was a weight crushing down on my chest, and that I might faint. I had never felt so stressed in my life. But then, Fred reached out, grabbed my hand, and pulled me close to him. My lips hovered in front of his, and he lowered his eyelids and let out a soft huff of laughter.

"Welcome home, Audrey." I closed my eyes as Fred touched his lips to mine. When he slid a hand up to my neck, ran his thumb down the length of it; I didn't feel stressed at all anymore. But within a few seconds, there was a loud crack, and we broke apart.

"Sorry." George was standing awkwardly near the door. He had just apparated into the room. I turned away from him, embarrassed, and looked out the window.

"What's going on, Georgie?" Fred asked, not the slightest bit ashamed.

"I've got news from the landlord. We're cleared to move in earlier."

"Well, when? August?"

"Now. We can move in this week."

I turned back around as Fred let out a loud hoot of laughter. He seized his brother and hugged him tightly. Over Fred's shoulder, George stared at me, his eyes blank and somewhat emotionless. I hugged myself and broke eye contact with him.

"Just think of it," Fred exclaimed, ruffling George's hair, who smiled in response. "The three of us, living here. Finally living the dream, eh George?"

The smile was wiped off of George's face. "Something like that," he replied. When Fred embraced me, I heard George whisper something else, that, luckily, Fred didn't seem to hear. "What a nightmare."


	12. Chapter 12

The very next morning, I departed the Weasley's chaotic home for a while. I few moments, not too long. I ran down the road past the lake, and up to the little fence that surrounded my house. My mother's car was gone, and evidentially, so was she. I walked up onto the porch and pushed open the front door. Immediately, I froze. From the living room came the sounds of conversation.

Cautiously, I placed my hand on my pocket, where my wand was, and inched into the entryway. Of course, I had no spells to use, nothing to defend myself with, but all the same, I felt stronger and more courageous with this wand by my side.

"Joie?" I called out. "Clemence?"

There was a clattering of feet as the girls ran through the kitchen and collided with me, head-on. Their lithe, thin arms surrounded me, squeezing my arms to my sides and their heads hit against my ribcage, knocking the air from my throat.

"Hi," I wheezed, as we, as a unit, swayed a bit. "It's only been two days."

"We were worried," Joie replied, her voice muffled in my shirt. "We didn't know where you had gone."

"Professor McGonagall just told us," Clemence cut in. "Oh, but it's good to see you again."

"She's here?" I peered around the corner to the kitchen, but didn't see her tall, stately frame anywhere.

"In the living room," Joie whispered, and the twins pulled away. "We made her tea. She's very nice…"

"But extremely intimidating," Clemence finished, her eyes wide.

I stepped around them, and made my way through the kitchen, to the living room. Professor McGonagall was sitting on the flower-upholstered couch, looking rather uncomfortably at the telly in the corner. On the coffee table before her was a teacup, filled with what looked like mystery-colored liquid.

"Professor?" I asked, and she blinked and looked towards me.

"Oh, Miss Kerr." She furrowed her brow slightly. "I thought you were at the Weasley's residence?" Joie and Clemence came up behind me, and stood directly in my shadow, listening to every word.

"I still am. I just needed to get some clothes and things." I glanced back at my sisters. "Stay here. Listen to what she says. I'll be upstairs."

Joie rolled her eyes, but the twins took a seat on the couch opposite Professor McGonagall. I gave them a warning look over the top of the professor's hat, and then ran up the stairs. I burst into my room and breathed heavily as I looked it over.

However much I liked the Weasleys, I had missed my room. It had been my sanctuary, and nothing was going to change that. I ran my hand over the posters on the walls, the ones that depicted the muggle bands I had been accustomed to: Oasis, One Night Only, and Arctic Monkeys. Much different than the sounds of the Weird Sisters, Fred's favorite band, which he had blasted on the radio last evening. I closed the door, grabbed my backpack from the hook, and opened it. I moved slowly around my room, putting in the essentials; clothes, some make-up and perfumes, a brush, my favorite book, pictures of Clemence and Joie. Finally, I made a full circle. I looked into the mirror, staring at the sad-eyed, exhausted girl before me. I looked skyward, and saw the picture of myself as a child.

Unlike all the Weasley's pictures, it did not move. I was stationary, my fat little arms frozen in the sand, my mouth puckered. I wondered now what it would look like if it had been developed magically. Would my mouth have opened to laugh? Would my father have appeared in the picture? Slowly, regretfully, I took the picture down off the wall, ran my hand over the empty space I left behind, and tucked it in my backpack. I pulled the top shut tightly, slung the bag onto my shoulders, and left the room.

Clemence, Joie, and Professor McGonagall were waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase.

"Well, Miss Kerr," Professor McGonagall said. "I came to tell your sisters what I told you just a few days ago. However, it seems you beat me to the punch. No matter. Your sisters have decided to attend Hogwarts in the fall. Only two months from this date. I expect you to keep an eye out for word from them." She looked over them, rather fondly. "Good luck in London, Miss Kerr. And I will see you two at Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall looked over the entryway once more, and then swept out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

"London?" Joie asked. "You're going to London?"

"I'm doing my studies there," I told them. "While you go to Hogwarts, I'll be there."

"But…" Clemence frowned. "Who will you be living with?"

"My…" I paused. "My good friends Fred and George Weasley. They own a business in the wizarding section of London."

They both stared up at me, their wide, blue eyes watering a little. I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. I leaned down and folded them into my arms.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to them. "I'm sorry I can't be here for you."

"We're going to Hogwarts now," Joie whispered back. "I'm more sorry that we won't be here for _you."_

Clemence let out a small sniffle.

"Hang in there," I said to them, pulling back. "Just a few more months. I think…I want you to come live with me. Someday. When I get my magic and everything sorted out, when I can support myself in this new world we've come upon. Alright?"

I kissed the top of each of their heads, trying to memorize the smell of my dear sisters, who, most likely, I would not see for a very long time.

"Write me everyday," they chimed.

"I need to hear about London," Clemence whined.

"We can get letters by owls now," Joie giggled, as if it was an impossible thought. I grinned at her.

"Make sure mum doesn't see them."

The twins suddenly leaned around me, focused at a figure outside the house.

"Who's that?"

I looked over my shoulder to see George, leaning against one of the fence posts, looking up at the house.

"That's George," I replied, surprised to see him here. "If he's here…well, I better get going." I embraced each of my sisters once more. "I'll write, I promise." I pushed my backpack higher on my shoulders and then looked around at my old home once more. I ran out the door before I could allow myself to betray any emotion, allow myself to dwell on the memories with my sisters here. Slowly, I stepped down off the front porch, and hopped over the stepping-stones to the gate. "Hi," I said quietly when I had reached George.

"Fred sent me," he said in a tone-less, emotionless voice. "He said that he's got everything set up in London, so you can move in now. He's got a room set aside for your lessons, he wants me to take you there."

"Okay…" I said hesitantly, stepping outside the gate. I squinted up at George's face, and realized that he really was as handsome as Fred, however, that was marred by the frown he wore when he saw me. "Can I ask you-?"

"Here," he commanded shortly, offering me his arm. "We're apparating this time. Hold onto my arm, and hold your breath. Close your eyes, too."

"Will I get sick?" I hesitated, putting a hand to my navel.

"Possibly. Fred did his first time, but he passed the test anyway." George looked down at me in a stony manner. "Are you coming or not?"

I swallowed, slightly afraid, and looked back towards my house. Decisively, I place a hand on George's wrist. His skin was cooler than Fred's always was, but still, as I touched him, I immediately got a zap of warm energy through my fingers. George recoiled, as if I had stung him.

"Sorry." I quickly withdrew my hand and placed it on his shoulder, away from his skin. I tried to ignore the tingling sensation in my fingers, but it mystified me, this feeling. I looked towards George, but within a second, all that I could see of his face was a blur. It was like we were flying through space at a million miles a second. I felt my organs heave against my skin, like they were trying to fight their way out. I felt my fingers begin to slip of George's shoulder, and in my fright, I grasped onto him with both hands, terrified of losing him in this spiral of space and time.

When it stopped, I felt my stomach shrink a few sizes, like it was frightened of what it had just been put through. I didn't open my eyes, terrified of what I might see. I realized that my arms were tightly closed around George's shoulders, like I was clinging to his side.

"Er…" George said awkwardly, and he patted my shoulder lightly. "It's over. It's okay, just open your eyes and take a step."

The thing was, weirdly enough, I didn't want to go. George felt familiar, he felt like Fred. His body was, essentially, exactly the same. And yet, he wasn't like Fred. He didn't smell like Fred did, not of pine, but instead, of musk. And I liked it. I really liked it. But then, George stepped out of my grasp, and immediately, my hands fell to my sides. I felt mortified at myself, at my behavior, and I opened my eyes. I wanted to apologize, but I felt blush rising up my neck.

"Wait, wait!" Fred called, running into the room. I looked towards him and plastered an awkward smile on my face. George simply stood there, watching his twin address me. "I have a surprise for you," Fred told me, kissing me on the corner of the mouth.

"This doesn't involve some kind of prank, does it?" I asked suspiciously. "I'm sure you could always conduct that on George." Fred grinned at George, who smiled back and winked.

"No." Fred reached out and covered my eyes with his hand. With his other hand, he grabbed onto my fingers and slowly guided me a few steps forward, shuffling slightly through the hallway. "Okay, look." Fred dropped his fingers from my eyes.

He had made up the room for me. There was a large bed pushed up against the corner, complete with white, gauzy drapes around it that matched the curtains. The headboard was dark wood, handsomely carved, and matched the dresser, which was furnished with a big mirror. On one wall was a bookshelf, lined with wizarding books I didn't recognize, and a wireless radio. On the wall opposite the window was a poster for the Irish Quidditch Team, which featured a handsome blonde with a snitch in his hand. He smiled, and looped through one of the hoops.

"Do you like it?" Fred asked eagerly. Stunned, I dropped my bag on the edge of the bed and took off my shoes, so I could feel the soft white carpet seep through my toes. I turned to him, beaming. No one had ever done anything so kind for me. I threw my arms around his shoulders.

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "I love it. It's so amazing for you to even let me live here in the first place, but to give me a room like this? Fred, I can't even begin to thank-"

"I know a way," Fred said slyly, pulling me towards him. I smiled and closed my eyes as Fred bound his lips to mine, his tongue slowly working its way to mine. Suddenly, George cleared his throat from behind Fred, and we broke apart.

"George is across the hall," Fred told me, still smiling, and not embarrassed in the slightest about being caught snogging in front of his twin. "Want to see his room?"

I glanced at George, and for a split second, the scent of musk reached my nostrils. I shivered, remembering the way I had enjoyed the scent, and the way our skin had reacted.

"No, thanks," I murmured, and Fred laughed. George, however, was silent.


	13. Chapter 13

"Win-gar-dium lev-i-osa," Fred instructed, flicking his wrist. The book on the table before us hovered in the air. "You have to draw out the middle of each word."

"So the gar and the I," I agreed. The book crashed down to the table. I took a deep breath, poised to try again. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The book didn't move an inch. I felt like crying. Fred and I had been at it for hours, with no results.

"Hey, don't do that," Fred said urgently, touching my chin. "You'll get it. It took my brother Ron months to actually be able to do this spell."

"Wingardium Leviosa," I muttered, without really any effort. Suddenly, the book flew into the air and paused at my eye level. Fred and I stared at it. "Look!" I hit him in the ribs. "I did it."

Fred kissed the top of my head. "I would say it's time to celebrate, but we have to move onto potions."

I sighed, pulled the extra cauldron off one of the shelves, and grabbed my bag of potions supplies from the depths.

"We're going to put it on the floor," Fred said. "That way, we can light a fire under it. Bluebell flames, the ones that don't spread anywhere but provide heat." Fred did an incantation, and a small group of flames sprung up under the cauldron. There was suddenly a hacking cough from the next room. "George?" Fred sprung up from his crouch and moved towards George's room. He knocked on the door. "You okay?"

"Yeah," George said faintly. "I think…I think I'm coming down with something. I coughed something up."

Fred paused. "Do you want some tea or something? Fuck it, I don't even know how to make tea…"

"I think I'm just going to go down to St. Mungo's and get something for the cough," George mumbled. I sat by the cauldron, watching the flames flicker, and pretended not to listen to their conversation.

"No," Fred replied. "Listen, I'll go get it. Just take a shower, try to cough some more, get all that crap out. We open in two days, you can't be sick. Besides, I think Audrey needs a break."

I smiled thankfully at Fred, who winked in return.

"Fine," George called out. "Thanks Freddie."

Fred waved his wand and got rid of the flames as George walked in to the bathroom, presumably to follow his brother's instruction and take a shower.

"Audrey, can you do something for me?" Fred asked, lugging the cauldron back onto the shelf. "There are boxes in George's room. One of them is marked Wheezing Boxes."

"Okay," I replied, standing up and brushing my hands off on my pants.

"Take that down into the lower level. You know that one shelf, filled with all the nosebleed nougat and all those boxes? Unpack that box on the shelf above it."

"Sure." Fred smiled and kissed me lightly on the cheek. "Least I can do…you won't even let me do my dishes."

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to do anything," Fred replied solemnly. "You're better than you think. At everything. You know that?"

I didn't want to ever hear him say things like that. It scared me, how perfect he was, how simply he could make me feel special. How he put me on a pedestal I really didn't deserve. I folded my arms around his waist and tucked my chin in his neck.

"I like it better when you aren't serious," I joked, but under my words, I was being truthful.

Fred laughed fleetingly. He squeezed my hands, and then went down the staircase, hopping down them three at a time. I sighed, but smiled as I watched him go. He truly was child-like at heart, something that I admired deeply, probably the thing I loved most about him.

I walked over to George's room, stood on the threshold, and rocked back and forth slowly. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous about going into his space, but I guessed it had to do with the venom he seemed to reserve for me. We had been living in the same household for weeks now, well, it would be, come Monday. But still, he seemed to loathe me. Fred was completely oblivious to this behavior.

Slowly, I placed my hand on the knob and pushed the door open. The room was, indeed, covered in boxes. Many had odd words written on the side, like "Punching Telescope" and "Edible Dark Marks." I paused and slowly moved a box of "Water-start fireworks" so I could get to the other stacks of boxes. When I tripped over something on the floor, I paused for a moment. I had tripped on something small, something compact.

It was the deck of cards I had given Fred when he first came into the shop. I picked up the deck and turned it over in my palm. The laughing face of the joker stared up at me, and it seemed too eerie to be amusing. What was George doing with these? I supposed it wasn't so odd, seeing as he was Fred's brother, his twin; they shared things all the time.

"What are you doing?"

George was standing in the doorway to his room, wearing a t-shirt and boxers. His hair was dripping wet, and the drops of water stained the heather gray cotton. Through the shirt, I could see the definition of his core muscles. I swallowed and tore my eyes away.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, shooting to my feet. "Fred asked me to get the box of Wheezing Boxes and take them downstairs."

"They're over there," George said, nodding towards the window on the opposite side of the room, opposite his bed. Still clutching the cards, I walked over and picked up the box, hugging it to my chest. George didn't look at me as I made my way back towards the door, up until I was eye level with him. "Those are mine." George grabbed my wrist, the ones that held the cards.

Slowly, I placed the box down on the floor, trying to ignore the sparks of energy shooting off the connection of our skin.

"No they aren't," I retorted, holding them out of his reach. "They belong to Fred. He bought them from me."

"He didn't buy anything," George suddenly snarled. And that's when it dawned on me. The first time I had met Fred, I hadn't really met Fred at all. I gasped a little as I remembered the twin who had chased off the obnoxious other customer. He had hazel eyes, not brown.

"You," I muttered, trying to gain his eye contact. "That was you in the shop, that day. Not Fred."

George snatched the cards from my hand and didn't reply. He threw the deck on his bed. I took a step closer to him, and George recoiled, flattening his back against his bedroom door. I quickly froze, and just stared at him. He avoided my eye contact.

"Did I do something that day? Or the day after?" I paused and studied his grim, set jaw. "Have I offended you? I really don't understand why you hate me." I took a deep breath, and I shook a little, as if I was about to cry. George looked alarmed. "Do I really repulse you as much as you let on?"

"Repulse?" George asked incredulously. He kicked the box of Wheezing Boxes aside. "No, Audrey. I don't despise you, I don't hate you, and you certainly don't repulse me."

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, I'm with your brother. Shouldn't you trust that he knows who's a good person? He can pick someone good for him, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know he did," George said in a small voice. I opened my mouth to speak up, but George held up a palm. "Just…listen, okay?" I bit down on my lip, and nodded eagerly. I couldn't wait to hear why he had treated me so badly. "I act the way I do towards you because I feel that's how I _should _act towards you. You see, I can't act the way I want to, because if I did, I could break one of two hearts. Either my brother's, or my own."

"What are you talking about?" I had a feeling I knew what he was letting on, and I pushed my hair back nervously.

"You were right. I came into the store the first day; it was I, not Fred. And I was in love with you from the moment I saw you, Audrey. But the second day, you took a liking to Fred, much more so than me. After that, I knew it would be fruitless to try to fight for you. And I didn't want to. I didn't want to fight with Fred." I took in a shuddering breath.

"Maybe I shouldn't hear this anymore," I stated quietly. "I think I've heard enough."

George nodded. "I just want you to know, that the way I act…it's not because I hate you. Quite the opposite."

"Maybe…" I paused, unsure of what to say. I felt like vomiting. "We should just be good friends? For the sake of your brother."

"I don't think so," George replied, putting on a small, sad smile. "It would never work."

"I'm really sorry," I whispered, ashamed of myself.

"You did nothing," George said powerfully, even though he was a bit congested. "I'm sorry for acting the way I have. If I had known what you thought…" I wasn't listening. I was staring at my feet. I felt like I was drowning, slipping into a body of water that I could not get out of, being tossed around as easily as a rag-doll…

Suddenly, a hand reached under my chin and tilted it upwards. George was looking into my eyes with those hazel ones, the one difference from his brother, the one defining quality that was simply George.

And then he kissed me.

**Hey everyone! Please remember to review. Thanks!**


	14. Chapter 14

I couldn't pull away from him. I just couldn't bring myself to. I don't know why I simply stood there, my arms limp at my sides. Perhaps it was because I was rather stunned by the confession George had just released upon me. Maybe it was because, truthfully, I felt a little sorry for him. Most likely, I let him kiss me because he reminded me of Fred.

But, at the same time, it was impossible to say he reminded me of Fred. This was something completely, mind-blowingly different, and I knew that full well. The moments his lips met mine, something within me changed. It was like I had confidence I never quite had before. His kiss, the touch of his hands as they ran down the back of my neck, made me shiver with something I could only describe as desire. This feeling I had begun to experience was something far more powerful and intense than anything I had ever experienced in my life, more powerful and intense and more _passionate _than anything I had ever experienced with Fred.

"Oh my god," I whispered quickly, pulling away and shaking my head vehemently from side to side. I closed my eyes; so I wouldn't have to see George, watch his hazel eyes widen in realization of what he had just done. The puffs of breath escaping from my lips could have turned to ice in the chilly atmosphere between us. "No. No no no no."

Before a word could be said, I picked the box of supplies back off the ground, held it close to my chest, almost as a buffer between George and I, and sidled past him. I paused at the top of the stairs for a moment, my chest heaving with the weight of my guilt, before I pulled open the door and descended downstairs, into the store.

I was so stupid. So flighty and unreliable and awful and so damn _weak. _I hated myself, for what I had done. I felt suddenly as if bugs were crawling over every inch of my skin, centipedes' miniscule feet were tapping away, dancing over my pores. I suddenly felt as if I should take a shower, and scrub off my first layer of skin, as if that would rid me of the guilty feelings I harbored. But then, I remembered that George had just gotten out of the shower before he had kissed me. I brushed the back of my hand across my brow, and droplets of water stained my skin, the moisture resting there, like burning evidence of my betrayal.

I felt sick to my stomach. How could I have done such a thing? How could George have done such a thing? And to his twin. I ripped open the box of pranks with such force that I nearly tore open the packages inside. Hastily, I began to stack them on the shelf, tears blurring my vision. I had just betrayed the only person who had ever treated me with the respect I had earned. But now, I deserved no respect, I knew that the reverence that Fred had showered upon me would be lost in a second, as soon as I was to tell him what had occurred this afternoon. Oddly, I realized that I deserved this feeling, to be cast aside as he surely would do. Perhaps, after all these years, my mother had been correct. Perhaps she knew me better than myself, she knew how terrible I really was.

"Audrey?" I looked to the top of the stairs, my legs quaking at the sound of the voice, which rang out clear and true into the depths of the store. When I saw it was George, not Fred, I didn't relax. On the contrary, I felt more nervous and anxious, and above all, I wished I had been educated in magic, so I could curse him into oblivion. "I wanted to talk to you for a second." He began to walk down the stairs, but I let out a loud screech that made him freeze in his tracks.

I didn't bother to apologize for my maniacal outburst, but instead held up my right hand, as if taking an oath. "I think it would be better if you spoke to me from right there, as in, don't come any closer."

George swallowed, and I saw a knot tighten in his throat. My attention was drawn to the corners of his mouth, which I realized had just been touching the corners of _my _mouth. In that moment, I truly understood that I would never be able to look at him in quite the same way.

"I want to apologize for what happened in there. I don't know what came over me." George coughed pitifully, and held a hand over his mouth for a moment as his frame shook. "I had just spilled my emotions, something really personal. I don't know if you've noticed, but emotional discussions are not Fred and mine's strong points. Forgive me, Audrey. I was confused and feeling rather upset with admitting the very thing I've been trying to deny for so long now."

"I don't know if I can forgive you right away," I murmured, not looking at him, but rather, fixing my eyes at a point over his head. "You see, you've changed everything now, you know that? It's not entirely your fault, I know that. But now you've made me into something I hate, something my mother wasn't, and something that I swore, for my sister's sakes, I would never be. You've made me untrustworthy. Your brother is a good person, probably the best person I know. And with all this bad in the world, I always knew I could trust him, and I hoped he could trust me. But now he can't. And it's just…it's wrong."

George hung his head, and his wet hair covered his downcast eyes.

"That wasn't my intention, whatever my intention was. You have no right to feel that way. You are trustworthy, Audrey. You were the one who stopped me. You pushed me away and said no, and you left me standing there. You're the one with the tear-stained cheeks. Obviously, you feel guilty, and if that isn't a quality of being trustworthy, I don't know what is. You feel guilty because you think you've broken some barrier, some invisible boundary. But you didn't, I did. So, truthfully, I'm the one that's untrustworthy."

His words, for the most part, comforted me. He had a point, after all. He had instigated the kiss, while, in my defense, I had asked him to stop speaking. I waited, patiently, for him to continue speaking. George's breath quickened and he leaned forward onto his toes, as if he was about to swan dive off the stairs.

"I don't want Fred to know what happened," he said.

I glared at him. It was one thing to act upon his impulsive feelings, but it was quite another to hide both his feelings and actions from the person who, essentially, was his other half. And, after all, that would mean I would have to keep quiet. I knew I could keep the secret, but the question was, simultaneously, could I bear to? It would writhe within me like a snake, fighting to emerge. It would twist around my organs, squeeze them into discomfort. The secret would pluck at my heartstrings. The thought of keeping something so quiet made me anxious, nervous, and suspicious. I was sure I would begin avoiding George, and become quieter around Fred.

He was, in short, asking me to lie to the person I loved most in the world.

"I know you don't want to, from the look on your face. You look at me like I'm a monster. But honestly, Audrey, what good would it do to tell him? It would hurt him, deeply. He cares so much for you. It was a mistake I made, and I think that telling him would cause more harm than good." He swallowed and dared to look me in the eye once more. "I don't want to see you get hurt, either."

I ignored the last part of his statement as I replied, but the words stuck with me. Truthfully, I felt sorry for George. I tried to put myself in his shoes. How difficult would it be, to see someone and from the first moment, have feelings for them, only to see those feelings be returned to your twin brother? How difficult would it be, to be caught between your twin brother, one who shared your soul, and your soul mate, who understood your soul?

"Alright." I looked back at the shelf I was working on and straightened the last few boxes. "I won't mention it now. But I think that someday, it should be said."

There was a loud crack outside the front door of the store, and the bell above it blared as Fred walked inside, a small white paper bag clenched in his hand.

"Hey guys," he greeted us, oblivious to the tension in the room. "George, here's some medicine from St. Mungo's. Apparently, there's a virus going around. Better start taking this stuff before you start coughing up balls of fire, like the guy in the emergency room…" Fred dashed up the stairs and handed the bag to his brother. I watched as George's mouth tightened considerably, and, once again, I could tell he was grappling with his feelings.

"Thanks Freddie," he whispered.

"You're already going mute," Fred laughed, and George managed a smile before walking back into the apartment and shutting the door behind him, leaving Fred and I alone.

"I put up the boxes," I said quickly, trying to calm my churning stomach. Fred trotted back down the stairs, and examined the shelf I had put together. He sighed, and then smiled.

"It's weird," he said. "Seeing all my products on a shelf like this. It's a dream come true. Never really thought…never really imagined…" he shook his head and trailed off.

"What?" I asked, urging him to continue.

"I never really thought, growing up, that I would have it all." Fred smiled down at me. "Opening a store, a nice flat in London, more money than I could count, and to top it off, a beautiful girlfriend that is far too good for me."

"Don't," I protested. I stepped into his arms and wrapped my own tightly around his waist, burying my face in the collar of his starched, button down shirt.

"Don't what?" Fred teased, holding me out in front of him, grasping me by the shoulders, so he could look over me with delight written across his face. "Tell you that you're perfect? Tell you I love you?"

That. That right there was when the world stopped. It seemed that everything that had happened in the past few minutes simply didn't matter. It was all irrelevant. All that mattered was those three words he had just dared to utter, the meaning of which was beyond my capacity to comprehend. What was love? I didn't know, I had never really been privy to it. But then, I thought of Fred, how I laughed when I was with him, smiled when I thought of him, blushed when he touched me, longed to run my fingertips through his crop of red hair. Wasn't that love? The longing, the desire, the wishing, the hoping, the guilt, the happiness, the jealousy, and everything that one could feel, all wrapped into three words one was supposed to understand?

"I love you too," I blurted out. And I meant it.


	15. Chapter 15

It was almost like we had become a small, dysfunctional family. The three of us sat that night around the radio, listening to a band Fred loved called the Weird Sisters. The singer's voice was loud and gravelly, enough to drown out the awkward silence that hung between George and I.

"Isn't it good?" Fred asked as the second song finished. I sat next to him on the sofa, my legs draped across his, and he tapped his fingers against my calves. I smiled at the slight bobbing of his head.

"I do like it," I admitted. "It's so different from muggle music."

"What kind of music did you listen to, Audrey?" George asked, somewhat stiffly. I had to dig my fingers into a throw pillow to keep my leg muscles from tensing up. Fred grinned at George, oblivious to my discomfort, instead pleased by his brother's seemingly friendly attitude.

"What everyone I know listened to. Er…that is, my sisters. They were young, they listened to popular radio all the time." I paused and listened to a few beats of the music. "What is a hippogriff?"

Fred burst out laughing. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on my forehead, which was slightly wrinkled with confusion. "I forgot you have so much to learn still. It's basically a horse. But with wings. And the head of an eagle."

"Oh." I said faintly. "Normal."

George suddenly stood up from his spot in his armchair, nearly knocking it over in his haste. Fred glanced up at him, slightly alarmed, but George just raised an eyebrow. "I…I was going to go wash out the tea cups. Unless you want any more."

"Audrey?" Fred asked.

"No," I said just as quickly, looking down and away from George. George leaned over the coffee table and began to collect the cups, scooping them up with shaky hands. I nestled back further into the couch, by back sinking into the soft leather. Fred tugged my foot towards him with a great heave, pulling me forward into his lap. I couldn't help it, I smiled. Fred wrapped his arms around my waist, running a hand back and forth just above the top of my jeans, his fingers cool and light around a band of my exposed flesh, causing goose bumps to rise in the path his fingers forged.

"Are you cold?" He asked, his fingers stopping for a moment. "Or am I just turning you on?"

"Fred," I said, abashed and embarrassed, but I couldn't stop myself from blushing horribly. Fred ran a hand down the length of my back and tilted his head back so he could look right into my eyes. He cupped my chin and kissed me deeply.

I felt a shiver go through me as I gently slid a hand to cradle the back of his neck. How could I have ever liked kissing George? No, not liked, but appreciated? What was wrong with me? Yes, George had kissed me. And yes, the kiss had been…well, passionate. But then there was Fred. Loving, deserving, Fred. And as I kissed Fred, I realized that while he may not have had the technical skill George had in the (echm) kissing department, his total, whole and complete love made his kisses better than his brother's would ever be.

"I really love you," I said as we pulled apart, and I leaned my forehead against his.

"I know," Fred teased, tickling my waist. I let out a shout of laughter as Fred seized me and rolled me onto my back, hovering above me with a wicked smile on his face. He began to kiss me playfully, his lips covering my chin and my cheeks and my forehead and even my nose as I lightheartedly resisted with mock squeals of annoyance. There was a sudden crash and Fred jumped off me. We both turned to see George, standing at the sink, a teacup shattered into a million pieces at his feet. I felt my stomach flip over and I wiped my lips and looked out the window instead.

"Sorry," George said. "I got distracted." Fred coughed a little, and whether he was uncomfortable or annoyed, I couldn't tell. Fred leaned over the back of the couch and shut off the radio. Just as he did so, there came a loud knock at the door.

All three of us froze.

"George?" Fred asked, faintly, reaching for his wand, which lay neglected on the coffee table. "What time is it?"

"Past eleven," George replied, and I heard a small clatter as he reached for his wand, too. I clasped my own wand, though; I wondered what good it would do to even hold my wand, seeing as I had only learned to disarm Fred the other day. I hadn't even learned to block curses yet, though Fred promised I would pick up on it quickly.

"Audrey," Fred said in a low voice. "It's kind of late, and I don't know who's out there." The knocking came again, more rapidly and loudly. "But I think you should go into the other room while I answer the door."

"No," I said stubbornly, though I was frightened enough to do as he said. Fred had warned me the other day about people who had been stampeding through the Alley the other day. Death Eaters, he called them. Frightful people with long dark cloaks and masks of silver that were twisted into horrible looking skulls. Fred had made me promise to stay upstairs in the store the day Death Eaters had been seen in the neighborhood. He had nervously explained that while he was a pureblooded wizard and could not be harmed, he wasn't so sure about how my parentage would protect me. "Is it Death Eaters?"

"I don't think they would have the courtesy to knock," George said in a slightly hostile voice. He crossed the room and threw open the door. He stood in silence for a heart beat before asking: "May I help you?" His voice was confused, but above all, rather concerned.

"We're looking for our sister." I felt my heart stop beating for a second. I knew that voice better than anyone's. Or rather, those voices, should they both have spoken at once.

"Clemence! Joie!" I hopped over the back of the couch, nearly knocking Fred over as I did so. I slid past George and saw my baby sisters, standing in the doorway of our flat, sopping wet and looking despondent. One side of Clemence's face was red and puffy, and Joie looked as if she had been crying heavily. "What on earth?"

"We're sorry," Joie exclaimed, throwing her arms around me with such force she nearly knocked us both to the ground. "We couldn't take it anymore."

"Mummy's gone mad," Clemence agreed, kissing my cheek lightly over Joie's shoulder. She glanced apprehensively at George, who had closed the door behind her. He glanced at me, and I saw his expression soften.

"I'll make tea," he said, not unkindly, and walked away. Fred hesitantly stood a few feet away from us, looking unsure as to what to do, and then went to help George. It was unlike them to be so quiet and conscientious, but tonight I was thankful for it.

"What do you mean?" I gently touched her cheek. "Did she do this to you?"

Clemence hung her head, and Joie nodded for her. "She's angry. About school and everything. Hogwarts. She said we couldn't go. She threatened to make us move away."

Clemence burst into tears. "She said we would never see you again."

"That's not true," I protested, tucking a soaked strand of her hair back away from her eyes. "Don't you believe that. How did you get here?"

"We took the train into London. You included the address in one of your owls. We just…we knew about the Leaky Cauldron. Professor McGonagall explained about it. We got there, and we asked the man Tom where your address was."

"You just…came to Diagon Alley?"

"I had a map," Joie offered, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out from her rucksack. "When Professor McGonagall explained it to us, I drew it."

"Okay," I replied, trying to keep calm. In this moment, I could have completely lost it. I could have yelled, screamed even, and asked them what in the hell they were thinking. How they could even think of just hopping a train here. I could have gotten fiercely overprotective and demanded how they could be so stupid to wander into Diagon Alley with such dangers apparently lurking around every corner. But all I could focus on were the shivering little girls in front of me, soaked to the bone, with their rucksacks and mismatching socks. "Okay."

"Here." I heard Fred and George come up quietly behind me. Fred tapped his wand gently on each girl's forehead, and immediately, Clemence and Joie were dry and water-free, and by the looks on their faces, presumably warm. "Are you both alright?"

"I'm sorry to intrude," they chimed together.

"You're not intruding at all," Fred told them. He glanced at me, his eyes understanding. Of course he could understand my panic. He had, of course, six siblings.

"We can't go home," Joie whispered into my ear, glancing up at Fred and George. "Not now. Please don't make us."

"Of course not." I felt Fred squeeze my hand reassuringly, and he smiled at the girls. They offered him small, polite half-smiles in return.

"You know what?" I said. "Why don't you both sleep in my bed tonight? I'll sleep on the couch." I ushered the girls towards my room, brought them each a cup of tea that George had so thoughtfully brewed, and let them fall asleep in my bed, their chests falling and rising lightly as they tossed and turned in their slumber. Fred found me standing in the doorway of my room, watching them sleep, biting my lip with concern.

"How are you doing?" He asked, rubbing my shoulders gently.

"How could she?" I managed to choke out. "I always hated my mother…but damn her. If it's gotten this bad…" I shook my head. "I hate her Fred, I really do. Look at them."

"At least they're here," he pointed out as he smoothed my hair back. "They had the sense to come here. Even if it was dangerous."

"Yeah." I closed my eyes and ran my hand across my forehead. What a day. I was emotionally as well as physically exhausted.

"You know," Fred said, and within a moment, he had placed his arms under my knees, knocking my legs loose, and he scooped me up into his arms. He held me tightly against his chest. "You don't have to sleep on the couch." I tucked my face into his shoulder and listened to the little noises of the flat. The rain pounding against the windows, the creaks coming from the floors, the soft sighs coming from Clemence and Joie. I glanced towards George's room, where the door was shut tightly.

"Okay," I whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

My house, in my absence, had changed. I was the one who had kept it up, washing the windows, painting the shutters and trim when needed, making sure the doors were always well-oiled. And when Fred helped me to apparate to my home, I saw that clearly, without me, my mother was not up to the task of taking care of the home. The lights were all off, the furniture on the porch coated with dust, the hedges outside untrimmed and the lawn yellowed.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Fred asked gently.

"I have to," I told him. I took a deep, shuddering breath of courage. "She won't stop if I don't. She needs to know…what it feels like to be so scared and helpless."

Fred nodded. "If you need a dungbomb or anything, you know where I'll be." In spite of everything, I smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. Fred blinked and squeezed my hand, and then jogged a little further down the road. He shimmied up and old tree and hid himself amongst the branches. I squared my shoulders, sighed, and walked up to the house.

"Alohamora," I whispered, tapping the door handle with the tip of my wand. There was a sharp, metallic clink, and the door swung open. As it did, I was struck by the strong stench of the house. It smelled of brandy and week-old food and gym clothes that had never been washed. All the curtains were pulled, and as I glanced into the kitchen, I saw food scattered all over the counter and dishes piled in the sink. I closed the door quietly, locked it behind me, and went into the dining room. I sat down at the head of the table, placed my wand out in front of me, and waited.

It turned out I didn't have to wait that long. My foot bounced along to the pace the ticking clock made, and after a few minutes, it chimed loudly. Five 'o clock. My foot continued to keep time, wiggling this way and that, until three minutes after five, when I heard a scraping noise at the front door. I planted my nervous feet on the ground and waited, curling my hands around my knees. This was it.

My mother, after work, seemed to have developed a routine. She had grown so accustomed to it, in fact, she didn't seem to need to have use of light to go about her activities. I heard her hang up her purse in the hallway, and then shuffle into the kitchen. I heard a cabinet open, the clinking of glasses. I faintly saw her bend over near the sink, rummage in the cabinet below it, and draw out a bottle, and then poured a generous amount of its contents into the glass. She began to walk into the room, but then, upon seeing me, sitting silently at her kitchen table, she dropped the glass and it shattered, splashing whiskey everywhere.

"Hi Mom," I purred, watching her eyes grow larger and larger in the dark. "Sit down, won't you?" My mother looked around wildly, as if someone was about to spring out of the darkness and come to her defense. She glanced towards the front door, a wild look in her eyes, and then glanced back at me, clearly assessing how fast I was compared to her. "I wouldn't try it." I raised my wand. "Not if you'd like to be paralyzed."

My mother swallowed, wiped her hands on the bottom of her shirt, and then stepped closer to the table before practically collapsing in one of the chairs. It squeaked under her weight, and she tried to glare, as if meaning to menace me.

"So," she said in a rough tone. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know." I flicked my wand and the light above the table flickered on, making her flinch. In the light, I saw for the first time how she had gained a good amount of weight. Her eyes were tired and angry, lined with wrinkles and dark circles, and her skin seemed greasy and sallow. "I got a surprise visit from my sisters last night."

"So that's where they went. Cunts. I told them they were supposed to stay in their room."

I almost exploded. My wand, which I had placed down, shot red sparks out of the end, even though my hand wasn't even near it. My mother scooted her chair backwards, further away from the wand.

"You slapped Clemence," I said, attempting to keep my voice calm. "You scared them both out of their wits. You told them you wouldn't let them go to school, wouldn't let them ever see me again?"

"I'm the mother." My mother reached into the front pocket of her work smock, which she hadn't taken off yet. She pulled out a cigarette from a crumpled box, and lit it, blowing smoke into my eyes. "I'm stressed and angry, yes, but I still get to tell my children what to do."

"Not anymore." I propped my elbows up on the table and laced my fingers together. "You're not our mother anymore. Not mine, not Clemence, not Joie's. How my father even fell in love with you in the first place, I will never know. But I'm not going to think about that anymore. He is in the past, and now, so are you."

My mother stood up quickly, flicking her cigarette aside, straight onto the wood floor. She ground it out with the heel of her shoe.

"Are you telling me what to do?" She bellowed. "Those are my damned kids-"

"Yeah, and I'm their sister."

"You're not even an adult."

"Legally speaking, in the wizarding world, I will be in two days. This world is where I, and my sisters, choose to live. Funny enough, I also happen to live independently of you, and have some of my own money saved up. Believe it or not, Dad left me a bunch of money that he kept hidden from you. We all have our secrets, don't we, mum?"

My mother's eyes filled with tears, but I attributed that to her anger over not finding the money in Gringott's sooner, rather than my cruel words.

"I just wanted to let you know your daughters weren't dead," I said dryly, standing up. "I might not be old enough to be their mother, or anyone's mother, for that matter. But I am an adult. I am more caring and mature than you will ever be. I'm the one that actually cares and watches out for them. They're going to school in the fall, and instead of not seeing me ever again, they will never see you again. Do you understand?"

My mother stood up too as I moved around the table, headed for the front door. "Where do you get off, speaking to me this way? You don't have the right-"

"No. You don't have the right. You lost it. You lost it the day you slapped me, and the day you slapped my little sister." I gave her a hateful look. "Though I doubt you will, if you ever try to contact us or find us again, I will make sure you have a miserable, awful life." I walked away, then, wand in hand, even though my wand was twitching to urge her, and my hand was itching to slap her. I resisted doing one or the other, or both. I couldn't let her get to me. Because now, I had the power.

Fred was waiting for me on the street, his hands in his pockets. As he saw me emerge from the house, he jumped over the fence and came to the bottom of the porch stairs, offering me his hand as we walked out of the path and away from my house. Her house, I guess it was now.

"Did everything go okay?" He asked.

I smiled, and I knew that I could answer truthfully. "Yeah." My voice was a little shaky, but otherwise, I felt fine. "I said everything I needed to. And I hope I proved my point." We stepped out into the street, our hands still clasped together, and I stared up at the house once more before sighing and nodding to Fred. He apparated, whisking us away from my old home, my mother, and the memories I hated so much.

Clemence and Joie were waiting for me in the apartment. They sat at the island in the kitchen, their legs kicking the spindly chair legs as they sipped what looked like mugs of butterbeer, which Fred was especially fond of and bought cases of twice every week. When I came in, they jumped from their stools and came to my side, full of queries and concerns.

"How was it?" Joie questioned.

"Was she awful?" Clemence asked, concerned.

"Did she cry?"

"Did you curse her?"

"I hope you gave her fat boils on her arse."

"No, George told us about giving someone hexed bogies. Can you do that yet? Did you hex her bogies?"

"No. None of that. Well…I mean, she was awful. But everything's fine now. We got it all cleared up." I smoothed away a piece of Joie's hair and patted Clemence on the shoulder. "What did you do today? Tell me you didn't drink all of Fred's butterbeer, he's so fond of it…"

"George let us work in the shop," Joie babbled with excitement.

"He let us put everything in order the way we wanted. I got to pick out all the bottles for the love potions. It's so beautiful, Audrey. You have to see it." Clemence's eyes were wide and happy. She turned her attention to Fred. "I hope you and your brother are exactly the same."

"Ah, that I can only hope to promise," Fred replied. "But we are twins."

"They aren't exactly the same," I said quickly, rolling my eyes. "And neither are you two."

"Come on, girls," Fred said suddenly, marching in a ridiculously flamboyant manner into the kitchen. "I'll show you how fun I can be. Who wants to help me make a batch of Fever Fudge brownies to give to my little brother, ickle Ronniekins?"

"Me!" Clemence and Joie shouted at once, scrambling over each other in their haste to follow Fred. I smiled as I watched that, and then slipped out the front door of the flat. I pulled aside the curtain that separated home from shop, and then gasped. George (and my sisters, apparently) had set up the entire shop. Shelf after shelf was filled with colorful, lively products. Some seemed to be dancing, others blinking colors, emitting scents and sounds and images. And the whole place was just…well, magic.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Is that you, Freddie?" George's voice rang out through the shop, and suddenly, he emerged from a back room, his hair messy and his face glistening. When he saw me, he froze for a moment, and then nodded. "Hi."

"You got a lot of work done," I said, somewhat awkwardly, and nodded to my surroundings. George didn't reply, and I didn't blame him. "Look, I just wanted to thank you for today."

"I didn't do anything," he said, not thinking of how ironic his statement was.

"You did." I blinked. "My sisters are happier then I've seen them in a very long time…and it's because of you. I have you to thank for that."

"Well, I…" George trailed off. "I had fun."

"Good." I bit my lips and began to climb the stairs, back towards the flat. I whirled around on the top stair, to look back at him. "You're not a bad guy, George."

"Don't tell the ladies that," he said quietly, attempting to put on a smile. I nodded, smiled, and went back inside to join Fred and my sisters.


End file.
